


Night and Day

by NotTasha



Series: South Bridge Series [1]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Presumed Dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 14:29:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6242998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotTasha/pseuds/NotTasha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some bad guys want to kill JD, managing to wound him.  Something has to be done to draw them away.  The first story in the South Bridge series -- most of that series deals with Josiah and Ezra, but this one is an anomaly</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night and Day

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMERS: This is fanfiction. No profit involved. This story is based on the television series "The Magnificent Seven". No infringement upon the copyrights held by CBS, MGM, Trilogy Entertainment Group, The Mirisch Corp. or any others involved with that production is intended.  
> RATING: PG-13 for Language  
> MAJOR CHARACTERS: Ezra.. Buck and JD… and all the rest have a little somethin' to do here.  
> ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: A very special thank you to Raquel for doing the translation so that it didn't look stupid. Thank you also to KellyA for her beta reading. Kristen provided the name of Ezra's horse. I borrowed the names of some of the other horses from Eleanor T.   
> SUMMARY: The Hollowell Brothers blame JD for the death of one of their own. Ezra and Buck do what must be done to protect him.  
> DATE: Originally posted July 29, 2000.

Part 1: 

"Wakey-wakey!"

"Wake-uuuup!"

"Come on, open those eyes. I know you can."

"He's movin'! He's actually movin'! His arm twitched! Who would've thought it? He's gonna get up! He's gonna....aw..."

"And he's asleep again."

"I guess we got no choice."

"Yeah, we're runnin' outta ideas."

"It's not like we didn't warn him."

"Gave him more chances then he deserves."

"Man, is he gonna be mad."

"Well, he does like takin' baths more than natural. We're just gonna help him out this morning."

Drip, drip, drip.

Ezra Standish opened his eyes in time to see the two pitchers of water leveled over his head. Quick as a cat, he spun out from under the covers, knocking JD Dunne backward. JD fought to keep his grip on the pitcher and barely managed it. But, the water sloshed forward onto Buck Wilmington. 

"JD!" Buck yelled, clutching at his soaked shirtfront as Ezra gained his feet.

JD laughed, pointing toward Ezra who was trying to move out of range. "Not my fault, Buck. He..." But before JD could finish the sentence, half the contents of Buck's container was thrown his way.

"Hey!" JD sputtered.

Ezra continued to edge away from the two sodden men. Quickly, he summed up his options.

Option One: Escape through the door or window in nothing more than his nightshirt. Oh, the humiliation. He wouldn't allow himself to be mortified like that in this strange town. And, if he were to escape from Wilmington and Dunne, it would mean an endless day of watching his back, waiting for retaliation. The two did end up rather damp. Ezra realized that they were not about to let that go unanswered.

Option Two: Fight like hell. Still could end up wet and would definitely end up retaliated against.

Option Three: Remain and take his medicine now.

He chose Option Three. At least he'd get it over with in a hurry.

He stood calmly as he watched the two men approach. Both moved cautiously, as if they were attempting to trap a dangerous animal.

Ezra smiled at their exaggerated stealth as he folded his arms behind his back and said, "It's fortuitous that the two of you have now bathed. Seein' as how we will be spending the day together, it will improve your odor tremendously."

He steeled himself for what he knew would happen. The contents of the two pitchers hit him simultaneously -- on either side of his head, filling his ears and dousing him entirely. He never dropped his calm smile.

At least, he thought, the containers weren't completely full.

JD and Buck grinned victoriously at the dripping gambler and set the empty containers on the hotel's bedside table.

"Come on, Ez," Buck said cheerfully, giving Ezra's wet shoulder a slap. "Judge Travis is gonna be waiting."

"We're gettin' some breakfast downstairs. You comin?" JD asked.

Ezra tried to wring water out of his hair with his hands. Giving up on that he picked a towel off the dresser. "I'll be down in time to meet with the Honorable Judge Travis and to receive our orders for the day from Sheriff Hughes."

"Come on, Kid," Buck said as he headed out of the room. "He's gotta pretty himself up. Probably won't be seein' him for another hour -- at least."

Ezra watched the two men leave the hotel room, and then he set about the task of preparing himself for the day. 

The three men had been loaned to the town of South Bridge to help out during a powder-keg trial. They had arrived the night before and met with Sheriff Hughes, who paid them their promised $5 each. Ezra, of course, headed immediately to the poker tables at the local saloon and found them ripe for the picking. He hadn't returned to their hotel room until after 2:00 am.

Standish yawned as he picked up his pocket watch. His eyes opened wide as he registered the time. "Seven in the morning? Lord, I hardly even knew that this time of day existed."

 

PART 2: 

Ezra caught up with Buck and JD in time to meet with Judge Travis and the local law. The three listened to what was expected of them for the day. Apparently, they would do little more than act as a security detail during the trial.

A stranger to the area had been accused of killing a prominent citizen in a dispute. He had brought in a lawyer from the east, and the townspeople were up in arms. There had been talk that the stranger would walk away from the conviction and a promise of retribution hung heavily over the trial.

Buck, JD and Ezra headed out to take their places as a crowd gathered outside the courthouse. Ezra chuckled to himself as he garnered the courthouse's shaded front porch while Buck and JD ended up in the sunbaked courtyard. Serves them right, he thought, remembering his rude awakening.

The job of security guard is an exceptionally dull one. Buck, JD and Ezra spent the day posturing around the courthouse, displaying their weapons and keeping a grumbling crowd at bay. The people of South Bridge, although complainers, seemed to be peaceable at least.

Fortunately for everyone (except for the stranger) the verdict was guilty. The trial ended after a tedious day of witnesses and cross-examinations. The threat disappeared and the three lawmen from Four Corners were free for the day.

Judge Travis bid them goodbye before he headed out on the next stage, complimenting them for remaining out of mischief during their tenure in the town. He had high regard for the Magnificent Seven, but he also realized that trouble seemed to follow them like flies after honey.

Buck sent a telegram, letting Chris know that they would be leaving the following morning. Ezra returned to the tables; Buck went in search of a barmaid he had seen earlier; and JD wandered the town. They spent an enjoyable evening and another night in South Bridge.

 

PART 3:

"Come on, Ez," Buck said tiredly, eyeing the gambler at his craft, finding it hard to believe that Ezra was at a game so early in the morning. He wondered if it had gone on all night. Buck himself had been up most of the night with Miss Lola, finding out exactly how congenial the people of South Bridge could be.

Ezra did not raise his eyes, but remained slouched in his chair, glancing out across the table at his opponents. "In a moment, Mr. Wilmington."

"Hell, Ezra, we gotta get moving soon if we want make any distance today," Buck reminded. "And the way you're going, we won't be getting outta here before midnight."

Ezra smiled across the table at Wilmington and said, "As long as the game is profitable..."

"Ezra," Buck sighed, "Chris is expecting us home by mid-day tomorrow."

Ezra raised and said, "You've already stated this fact."

"You know what kinda mood he'll be in if we're late."

"Deplorable."

"Yeah, a deplorable mood."

"No, my hand, deplorable," Ezra frowned at his cards, but stayed in the game.

Buck watched while Ezra won the hand with a deplorable two pair. The other four men at the table grumbled as the grinning gambler raked in the winnings.

"My, my, my, it would appear that the Fates have smiled upon me," Ezra drawled as he straightened the bills into a neat stack.

Buck shook his head and headed back to the bar, where JD was sitting.

"He about ready?" JD asked, sipping his coffee.

"Who knows," Buck sighed. "I've never known a man who could go on like that for so long. Let's give him another five minutes, then we'll haul his ass outta here." Buck didn't relish the task. "Hell, we should've been started for Four Corners an hour ago."

"Four Corners?" a dark-haired man beside JD asked. "You boys from Four Corners?"

"Yeah, we sure are," JD replied. "You ever been there?"

The man snorted. "Headed there." He was a tall man, some thirty-plus years old, with a lean face and a dangerous look about him.

"Oh yeah?" Buck started, "You got business with anyone there?"

"Unfinished business. Been in Tuckersville. Just headed through here to meet up with my kin." The man took another swig from his glass and then turned to the two. He asked, "What do you know about those lawmen they got out there?"

Buck felt the alarms go off in his head and was about to probe the man for details when JD piped in, "Well, we are the law. I'm the sheriff."

Damn it, JD, Buck thought. He watched as the dark-haired man stood suddenly and stared at the kid. "You? You're John Dunne?"

Shit! Buck stood, moving protectively to JD's side. "Why do you care?" Wilmington asked, his voice thick with threat.

"My name's Frank Hollowell," the man said defiantly. Buck racked his mind as Frank continued speaking, "Hollowell. Does that ring any bells, Mr. Sheriff?"

"Ah, well, I can't say I've heard of ya," JD responded resolutely.

The man nodded grimly, his gaze fixed upon the young man. "Yeah, maybe you know of my brother Rick?"

Buck looked between JD and Frank, trying to figure out what was going on. All he needed to see was the startled look on JD's face.

Hollowell swung. He would have clocked JD if Buck hadn't thrown himself at the man. They pitched onto a table, toppling it. Half-filled glasses were sent flying. Startled patrons leaped to their feet and scuttled out of the way.

"Buck!" JD shouted as chairs clattered to the floor. Hollowell had a tight grip on Buck's neck. JD grabbed onto Hollowell's arm, trying valiantly to pull him off of Wilmington.

"Leggo!" JD shouted, trying to get some purchase on Hollowell's arm.

Frank's gaze shifted from Buck to JD. Noticing who was grabbing onto him, he let loose his grip on Wilmington and lunged for Dunne. JD shouted and was thrown backward toward the bar. Hollowell was on him in a second.

Buck scrambled to his feet and wrapped his hands around one of Hollowell's arms, pulling the man away from the struggling sheriff and hauling him to his feet, stopping the assault.

"Goddamn you, sheriff!" Hollowell gasped at JD. "I'll git you for what you done to my brother. I'll git you!"

The doors behind them swung open and the South Bridge sheriff and his deputies arrived. "What's all this then?" Sheriff Hughes asked as he strode into the room.

The citizens of the town, knowing the Hollowell family and their ways, remained silent as Buck and JD gave an account of what had happened.

When Sheriff Hughes questioned them, the saloon patrons reluctantly agreed with Buck and JD's account of things. Hollowell had started it. The other two were just minding their own business. Hollowell had thrown the first punch.

The sheriff just smiled. "It seems like a week don't go by without a Hollowell behind bars." He tipped his hat and again thanked the men from Four Corners for their assistance that day, before leading Frank Hollowell away.

"So, JD, ya think you can explain what that was all about?" Buck asked. "Who's this Rick Hollowell anyway?"

Ezra brushed past them before JD could answer, stating, "I believe it's time to depart as the game has gone cold. Perhaps you gentlemen have finished?" He straightened the lines of his red jacket as he moved through the batwing doors.

"Ezra, where were you?" Buck demanded as he followed Standish.

"Mr. Wilmington, I believe you were well aware of my location," Ezra replied, unconsciously touching his Remington as he fussed with the jacket.

"We could have used you," Buck stated, exasperated. "I mean, he could have hurt JD."

"Hey," JD said. "I had things under control."

"Under control, yeah," Buck sighed. "That man would've broken your neck like a chicken bone."

"Wouldn't have," JD countered and looked to Ezra for support.

"You paint quite a picture, Mr. Wilmington," Ezra said with a smile. "It did appear that you had matters well in hand." Ezra continued forward with Buck and JD close behind. "I was certain that the two of you were capable of subduing one man. I saw no reason to intercede." He pulled out his pocket-watch as he paused on the boardwalk, taking a minute to run his thumb along the monogrammed lid. "We had best leave this lovely establishment as you've worn out our welcome." 

Buck sighed, grabbed JD brusquely by the elbow and pulled him after the departing conman.

 

PART 3: 

"So, JD, what was that fella going on about anyway?" Buck asked once they were outside of town. The three men rode their horses side-by-side, keeping an easy pace.

JD frowned and explained, "You remember that bank job a few months back? One of the fellas involved was a guy named Rick Hollowell, that guy's brother."

Buck nodded. "Yeah, that gang came into town and shot up the place a bit. If I remember rightly, we got back at 'em with a few bullets of our own. They'd been robbing banks all through this area. I don't think anyone's found the money."

Ezra sighed. "JD, I don't recall that you killed Rick Hollowell. I believe that two of the brigands were sent to their maker." He grimaced and continued, "I do despise dealing with brothers bent on retribution."

JD shook his head. "Nah, Rick wasn't hurt at all. It was his buddies mostly that got shot up. We sent him off to prison. Rick didn't do any of the killings. Remember, he's the guy we found hiding in the bank after it was all over."

Buck nodded, remembering the surrendered. "So what's this Frank up in arms about?" Buck asked.

"Dunno," JD replied. "Maybe he just don't like the idea of his brother bein' sent to prison."

"From what the sheriff said, it sounds like they're plenty used to it," Buck commented.

"Perhaps there's something else," Ezra said thoughtfully.

JD shrugged. "Nothing that I can think of. I mean, that Rick got what he deserved."

"Getting what one deserves is often a very biased thing," Ezra responded. "Some things are not as clear as night and day, and I'm afraid there may be more to this than we realize."

The three men continued homeward. With any luck they would be able to cover half the distance before nightfall and return to Four Corners fairly early the next day. They chatted amicably as the rode, enjoying the quiet expedition and each other's company.

Their journey took a rambling path as they made their way through the boulders and scrub, the small stands of trees and the shallow creeks. The land had a dreamlike sameness to it. One rock looked the same as the other as they slowly made their way through them, avoiding the well-traveled trails for the more enjoyable back routes.

Buck had to admit, the mission had been a success, all in all -- if you forgot about the boredom of the trial. Hell, they even gotten into a bar brawl. What could be better? They were well paid for assisting the South Bridge lawmen - $5.00 each for one day's work and they didn't even get shot at this time. Buck glanced over at Ezra, wondering if Standish had been able to increase that $5 during his long hours at the poker table.

Wilmington enjoyed the company of the sheriff and the gambler. Buck was always an amiable man, quick to make friends -- even quicker if the friend were female -- but he couldn't remember having friends as good as the ones he had now. The six men that he worked with were like family and he truly enjoyed spending his time with them.

JD was a brother to him, a little brother that needed guidance and protection. And Ezra, a brother? No, more like a cousin -- that mischievous cousin who would get you in trouble if you weren't careful. The kind of cousin you always had to keep an eye on, but always wanted around nonetheless. He watched as Ezra rode beside him, eyes forever searching – checking the countryside around them. Ezra seemed to note he was being watched and slowly turned his gaze on Wilmington. Standish nodded and smiled amicably.

Buck turned a brotherly glance on JD, remembering the brawl, wondering why Hollowell was so angry with the young man. Ezra had said that there was probably more to it than they had realized. Well, with Ezra there was always more to everything. You never could tell what went on in that brain of his. It was Buck's opinion that Ezra's mind was packed far too tightly with words and that was why he didn't think along the same straight lines as the rest of them.

JD shook his head as he watched Ezra dusted off his red jacket. "Ezra, I don't understand why you wear them fancy duds when you know we're goin' for a long ride," JD said. "I mean, that nice stuff just ain't right for the trail."

Ezra sighed as he slapped his arms, raising more dust. "The fact that we're in an inconvenient situation is no reason to dress like a heathen."

"Heathen?" Buck echoed incredulously. "JD, I think we've just been insulted."

"Could be," JD replied. He steered his horse, Toby, closer to Ezra and said, "You should wear something like this." He tugged at one lapel of his hounds-tooth blazer. "It does a fine job on the trail."

Buck snorted. "Now JD, what you're wearin' is little better than that fancy piece of fluff that our friend has on." He pointed to his own heavyweight jacket and commented, "You need something like this if you want to be wearing somethin' proper."

"Honestly, gentlemen," Ezra responded with a tilt of his head. "If I were to dress as you, I'd look little better than a scarecrow."

"Scarecrow?" JD interjected, looking at his own clothing in disbelief. "You think I look like a scarecrow?"

"Nah, Kid," Buck commented with a grin. "He said that he'd look like a scarecrow." He rode along Ezra's other side and stated, "You see, Ezra here needs to dress well to compensate for the fact that he'd look like nothin' more than a bag of straw if he were wearing anythin' less."

Ezra glared at Wilmington. "You sir, are a myopic ignoramus."

"That," Buck said, looking across to JD, "Was an insult."

"Yup, sounded like it." JD laughed and Ezra turned his glare on him.

"Unbelievable," Ezra muttered as he pulled ahead, followed by the laughter of the two men.

The three continued onward in relative peace. Buck was enjoying the late hours of the day. He kept his attention ahead, checking for a decent place to spend the night. They still had an hour or two of light. Their path continued to wander, finding an easy but interesting journey home.

"JD," Ezra said, breaking Buck's concentration. "Is everything all right?"

Buck glanced over to Dunne, seeing a distracted look on his face. "JD, what're doin'?" Buck asked.

JD fingered his reins. "I... I just thought of somethin'."

"And that would be..." Ezra prompted.

"You were saying that there might be somethin' more about that Rick Hollowell..." JD said quietly. "And I kinda thought of somethin'."

"Out with it, JD," Buck demanded.

JD smiled weakly. "I just remembered what happened to him."

"Happened? He went to prison, right?" Buck asked.

"Well, he was headed there." JD furrowed his brow. "I just remembered that he didn't quite make it."

"Escaped?" Buck asked.

"Well, he kinda got killed on the way to the prison," JD replied.

"It is retribution," Ezra murmured in disgust. "And just how did this Mr. Rick Hollowell meet his end?"

JD licked his lips. "I kinda heard he hung himself in a holding cell along the way...in Tuckersville."

"That's where his brother Frank just came from." Buck groaned.

"It's okay though," JD said with a nervous smile. "Frank's locked up. There's no problem, right?"

The report of a rifle denied this statement. The three men turned, drawing their weapons to find five horsemen closing on them.

"Damn it to hell," Buck shouted, quickly turning his mount and the three took off at a gallop toward the cover of the rocks. The sound of gunfire chased them. 

 

PART 4: 

"Come on, Toby!" JD urged his horse as bullets whistling past him. He turned and fired at the five followers.

Ezra crouched down in his saddle and glanced over his shoulder. He squeezed off a couple shots before facing forward again, urging Chaucer to an even faster pace.

Buck turned, firing at their pursuers. He could see five dark-haired men on matching blue roans. He spurred his horse onward, spotting a group of rocks not far from them. It would provide the cover they needed. He shouted to the others and the three headed to the protection, grinning tightly at their success.

And JD, as he nearly reached Buck, lurched forward as if slapped soundly from behind. He cried out, twisting in the saddle as Toby skittered, confused by the gunfire and his rider's sudden change in position.

Buck leapt from his horse and lunged toward the injured man while Ezra provided cover. Toby panicked and danced about and his stunned rider couldn't hang on. JD slid helplessly from the saddle. Buck's quick hands grabbed the young man before his head made contact with the dirt and then quickly dragged JD to safety as the horse fled.

Ezra looked over his shoulder and asked, "And how is he?" 

"JD? JD? Talk to me!" Buck demanded. Wilmington held the sheriff tightly, willing him to be okay. He pulled his hand away from JD's back, horrified at the amount of blood on his hand.

JD blinked at Wilmington. "S'okay, Buck. I'm okay."

Buck looked up worriedly, checking to see if Ezra was managing. Ezra leaned against their stone cover, firing at the five. "Ez?" Wilmington asked.

"I'm handling it. See to Mr. Dunne," he said without turning. "And hand me your guns. I have no time to reload and my weapons will be empty soon." He fired one more shot and said, "Let me amend that -- empty now."

Buck tossed Ezra his pistols, and he caught them before turning back to the fight.

"You can keep 'em bottled up there?" Buck asked as he hurried to the horses to find bandages. 

"As long as the ammunition lasts."

Buck grabbed the saddlebags off their two remaining horses and returned to JD. He handed JD's Colts and the ammo to Ezra before he returned his attention to Dunne.

JD looked up at Wilmington, his eyes made intense by the pain. "Buck?" JD gasped. 

"Hang in there, Kid," Buck said as he sat JD upright. 

JD gasped and helped as much as he could as Buck worked off his jacket, vest and shirt. The bullet had apparently gone clean through his shoulder, back to front, leaving a ragged wound.

Buck laid JD back, shoving the wadded shirt behind his shoulder. He pressed a cloth against the front wound, trying to stop the bleeding. JD cried out and Ezra turned at the sound. 

"Ezra, you got that flask of yours?" Buck asked and was tossed the silver vessel.

A voice suddenly called out, "Hold on there!"

Ezra drew back the weapon, and seeing that the gunfire had temporarily ceased, used that moment to reload his pile of now empty guns.

The voice spoke again. "We got nuthin' against the two of you. We just want that sheriff. John Dunne is the name on the paper that sent Rick to his death. He's why Frank is locked up right now. Let us have 'im and we'll let the others of you go."

Ezra looked to Buck as he quickly loaded the weapons.

"The hell you will!" Buck shouted back, as he increased the pressure against JD's wound. JD moaned loudly. Buck bit his lip, wishing there were some other way around this.

"He's the one who done it. We want him for what he done to our brother, Rick."

Ezra muttered, "More brothers. I'm grateful to be an only child. I don't think I could handle going after everyone who wronged a Standish sibling." He clicked the cylinder of his Remington. "Considerin' the course my life, I'm certain it would be a full time profession."

"Look," the Hollowell brother continued, "It's gonna get dark soon. Let's put an end to this. Give us the sheriff and you two can go. We know we shot 'im. It's not as if you're gonna get anywhere with 'im now."

"Damn you!" Buck yelled. He stood quickly, intent on grabbing one of the weapons and killing any of the Hollowells that showed their faces. A hail of bullets sent him back to cover  
.   
Ezra once again took to firing. "It may be best if you keep your head down. I'll tend to this little imposition. You tend to JD."

Buck took a moment to appraise the situation. Ezra had found a fairly well protected position and seemed to be keeping the Hollowells at bay. He turned back to JD to see what he could do.

It took some time to slow the bleeding, clean and then bandage the wound. JD drifted in and out of consciousness as Buck worked. By that time he was finished, the barrage of gunfire had nearly stopped. Ezra continued to fire at the Hollowells position from time to time, to keep them in their place and the Hollowells returned the favor. Ezra kept his head tucked within the shelter of the rock, throwing glances back toward Buck and JD when he was able. 

Finally, satisfied that JD was all right for the time being, Buck crawled over to Ezra and looked out to see what they were facing. Dusk was falling and the sky was growing dim.

Ezra pointed to another group of rocks some distance from them. "Five of them, concealed there," he said, reloading again. "They seem more than happy to remain there for the present." He nodded to the darkening sky. "Once night falls, they may attempt an attack. Keeping them in their place will be difficult if I can't see them." 

"We gotta get JD to some help," Buck insisted. "Get him out of here." 

Ezra looked at their pale friend, licked his lips and said, "I agree. We need a plan." 

Buck nodded and stared out across the distance that separated them from the Hollowell brothers. He scanned the area, looking for something he could use. "I think I have an idea," he declared. 

Yeah, Buck thought, it just might work. Still, his stomach twisted as he realized the risk. He'd be leaving himself open for attack, an easy target. He turned back toward JD, who lay with his eyes closed and his shoulder bandaged. Buck had to ensure that the Kid was safe, even if it meant getting himself killed in the process. 

"Are you going to keep me in suspense?" Ezra asked.

Buck turned to Ezra, who gave him a steady look. "I'll crawl out that way." Buck pointed to another group of rocks. "I should be able to make it without 'em seeing me. When I get there, I'll give you a signal. You and JD get on my horse -- Clyde's the stronger of the two we got left. Then you get him to town."

Ezra frowned. "You believe that two men on one horse would be able to outrun any one of them? They seem quite proud of their blue roans."

Buck grimaced. "I'll be providing a pretty good distraction. They'll be more bullets headin' their way then they'll know what to do with. You just gotta take advantage of it."

"It's possible that one of the five would be able to avoid your attempt to stop them."

"It's what we're gonna do."

Ezra shook his head. "You'll get us all killed. I don't know about you, but I value my life."

Buck's expression darkened. "Look, I could be the one with him on the horse, 'cept that you're the lighter of us."

"Really? Not by much. Just because I care about my…"

"The two of you got a better chance of getting away than JD with me. 'Sides, I'll be taking a bigger chance by staying behind."

Ezra didn't respond to Buck's comment. He returned his attention to where the Hollowells were situated. 

Finally Ezra responded, "Perhaps both of us should attack. Working together we may be able to dispatch the lot of them. Then the urgency to move Mr. Dunne will be eliminated. We'd be able to take care of him properly."

"No," Buck shook his head decisively. "There's no way in hell we're leavin' JD unguarded while the two of us go off there. What'll happen to 'im if we both get killed?"

"I'm not planning on getting killed, Buck," Ezra drawled. "I try to avoid that at all costs."

"If those brothers realize that we've left him alone, then they'll have a chance to get at him." Buck grabbed his weapons, along with JD's and most of the remaining ammunition. "You stay here. Lay down some cover if I need it."

Ezra drew his mouth to a tight line and was silent for a moment. Finally he nodded sharply. "Good luck, Mr. Wilmington."

Buck extended an arm and the two men shook hands. "It's been fine knowin' you, Ez."

Ezra sighed. "Buck, a more positive attitude would help."

"I did say it was 'fine' knowin' you. I coulda described it differently."

Ezra quirked a smile. "Why, Mr. Wilmington, I never knew you cared."

Buck got into a crouch and slapped Ezra on the shoulder. "Take care of JD. His life is..." Buck stopped and started again on a new tack. "He's dependin' on you."

Ezra touched the brim of his hat and promised, "Not even his bowler will be damaged while in my care."

Wilmington begin to move away when Ezra whispered, "Buck?"

Buck turned to face him. "Yeah?"

"The feeling is reciprocated," Ezra said seriously. When he saw Buck's puzzled look, he added, "What you said goes double with me. It has been an honor to work with you and a pleasure to know you."

Buck nodded and returned to his task.

 

PART 5:

Buck moved cautiously in the growing darkness, using the scant cover of the scattered rocks, making his way to the outcrop that could effectively hide him. He heard JD cry out more than once as he crawled onward. Buck froze, looking back toward the enclosure at every pain-filled utterance.

Take care of 'im, Ezra, Buck thought.

Wilmington knew that what he was doing was suicide. Trying to stop five men from pursuing his friends would be nearly impossible. If he could only keep them pinned down, then JD and Ezra would have a chance. If he allowed the Hollowells to get past, the brothers could easily catch up to the overburdened horse and his friends wouldn't make it home.

Buck knew that he would do anything it took to stop the Hollowells in their tracks.

Wilmington edged up slowly to the protective row of rocks and looked back to where JD and Ezra were still secreted, before returning his attention to the Hollowells.

It was nearly dark by the time he reached this point. In the meager light, he could see the five remaining brothers in their hiding place. They were a big-bodied group, with childish faces. He noted that the youngest of them was probably no older than 15. The eldest was probably in his mid-twenties. They were nothing more than a group of overgrown boys. They milled around in the relative safety of their enclosure, cautious of the man who had been firing on them for the past hour.

Buck tensed when he realized that these men were preparing to make their move. There was no time to lose. Buck signaled, hoping that Ezra had seen him and a moment later he saw a figure on a horse, stepping clear of the rocks. It was JD, crouched down in his jacket, his bowler evident against the dimming sky.

Damn it, Buck thought, what's he doing up there alone? Where the hell is Ezra? He squinted, and thought, the horse is too dark. Why the hell is JD on Ezra's horse? What's Ezra thinking? Damn it! Ezra doesn't trust any horse but his own. Chaucer wouldn't make it with two men. That horse is all show and no strength.

JD hunched, and turned toward Buck. 

He's doin' better at least, Buck thought.

In the next instant JD fell forward onto the neck of the horse. The animal reared for a second and then took off like a shot.

It was everything Buck could do to stop from shouting. The horse made a beeline directly toward the Hollowells. The brothers scattered at this unexpected attack, then tried to find safety in the rocks. A moment later, they started firing at the young sheriff as horse hurtled away and into the dusk, in the wrong direction. 

Buck stepped out from behind the rocks and provided what cover he could as the Hollowells quickly mounted and took off after the young man.

"Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!" Buck yelled after them. The five men escaped, headed at a full gallop after the departing horse.

"Ezra!" Buck shouted as he ran back to where hadhe left them. "Goddamnit, what the hell happened?" he screamed. He'd have to catch up to them, have to save JD. 

When Buck reached the safety of the rocks, he looked in disbelief. Ezra was asleep, his coat thrown over himself like a blanket, his hat slouched down over his face. Damn him! That's what comes of stayin' up all night. The gambler couldn't even keep his eyes open for five minutes to protect their friend. 

"What the hell are you doing?" Buck angrily shouted, snatching up the black hat and was shocked to see brown eyes looking up at him instead of green. "JD?" 

"Buck?" JD cried querulously, "What happened?" He fingered the red jacket that lay across his chest. 

Buck spun around, back to the direction where the Hollowells had disappeared, chasing down what they thought was the sheriff. He looked back at the young man. 

"Ah hell, JD," Buck muttered. 

"Where'd Ezra go?" JD tried to sit up, but the pain kept him down. "He was here a minute ago. Told me everything was gonna be all right. Told me to tell you he was sorry 'bout the change it plans, but it came to him sudden-like. Where'd he go?" 

"I don't know." Buck pushed his hat back and sighed. What the hell, he thought as he listened to the departing Hollowells.

He flinched at the sound of gunfire. Oh God, please, Buck thought, looking anxiously in that direction. Just keep ahead of 'em, Ez, he thought. Just outrun 'em and hide in the night. He looked down to see JD's terrified expression. 

"He'll be okay, won't he?" JD asked.

"'Course," Buck replied, trying to believe it. "We gotta get you home." Buck leaned down and helped Dunne to painfully sit up. "Come on, we gotta go now." He jammed Ezra's hat onto JD's head, finding it a bit too small. 

"But what about Ezra?" The young man asked, trying not to cry out as Buck got him to his feet.   
"He's provided the distraction we needed. We'd better take advantage of it."

 

PART 6:

Ezra kept his head down as he urged his horse onward. He had to keep his head tipped to avoid losing the bowler that proved to be little too big for his head. Who would have thought that the young sheriff would have such a large cranium? 

JD's jacket, although cheaply made, fit well enough. Ezra glanced uncomfortably at the jacket's ragged and bloody shoulder, shivering at the thought of JD's wound. He hoped the boy was all right. The sheriff's cries of pain still tore at him as he hurried onward.

Chaucer's hooves thundered across the hard baked earth as the two of them sped into the darkening night. Ezra gripped the brim of the hat as he turned his head to see what was behind him. He could hear the five men shouting in the distance. At least they stopped firing. Apparently, they were conservative with their bullets. 

Five, yes, he was fairly certain that he could still hear all five. He knew that he hadn't been able to hit any of them as he fired backward at them. At least they still pursued. This would do no good at all unless he was able to draw them all away. Well, Buck could handle the leftovers if there were any, but Buck had another responsibility at this moment. Wilmington had to get JD home. 

But what if Buck couldn't get JD onto the horse? What if JD was too gravely injured to move? That was why Ezra had to keep going -- had to ensure that the five still followed him -- he couldn't lose them in the darkness.

He chuckled, realizing how startled Buck must have been. The idea of switching places with JD had come to Ezra as he had tried to prepare the young man for the journey. JD had cried out as the gambler had shifted him toward the horse. Ezra had apologized, hating to cause the young man any additional pain. It seemed that everything he had done caused JD agony. In the end, he decided he couldn't handle that any longer. 

His plan, in short, was an act of pure cowardice. Ezra couldn't brave the act of hurting JD to get him on that horse.

Ezra shook his head. Then, there was the fact that Buck's idea just wouldn't work. He did have confidence in Buck's abilities, but not his plan. Standish was afraid that if any of the Hollowells made it past Wilmington's barrage, JD's life would be forfeit -- and his own as well in the bargain. Ezra also had realized the suicidal nature of the whole mess -- that Buck's scheme left very little chance for survival. 

People as fine and heroic as Mr. Wilmington were too few and far between. There had to be another way -- and then he had realized that there was. 

It wasn't a foolhardy plan -- at least, not as foolhardy as Buck's. Ezra did have a goal in mind. If he could just get the Hollowells to follow him for long enough, he could eventually hide. He frowned, realizing how long he would have to keep them behind him if he wanted to reach his goal.

As the horse slowed to pick its way through the growing gloom, Ezra glanced idly at his saddle. If he had an iota of sense he would have grabbed the discarded saddlebags, but of course there was JD to worry about. JD would need the supplies more than he did. At least, Ezra thought, I have a canteen -- some ammunition. It was all he really needed.

He slowed the horse further, not able to hear his pursuers anymore. Chaucer snorted in confusion as Ezra drew him to a stop and waited. Man and animal breathed deeply. Ezra listened to the darkness, hearing nothing.

Had he lost them?

He reloaded his guns and slowed his breathing. The box of ammo that he had grabbed before he escaped proved to be rather insufficient. He filled the chambers of his guns and discarded the empty box. It would have to do. 

He listened. Still no sound of his pursuers. No, that would not be acceptable. If the Hollowells lost him, they would return to where the attack took place, return to pick up the goods they had undoubtedly left behind in their haste. 

What if Buck hadn't been able to move JD? What if they hadn't gone very far? What if they had left a trail of blood and the brothers figured out the ruse? The Hollowells could catch up to them. 

Damnation! 

"HEEE-YAH" Ezra shouted. Chaucer lowered his ears and glanced up at his rider in suspicion.   
Somewhere far behind him, Ezra heard the voices of the Hollowells.

"There he is!"

"That sheriff's gonna die!"

"Not tonight," Ezra whispered and then spoke to his horse, "Onward, my friend." Chaucer continued as quickly as the darkness allowed.

 

PART 7: 

Nathan Jackson left the empty jail and walked along the dark boardwalk. It had been a calm night. He usually was able to avoid 'night duty' due to his other responsibilities in town, but the lawmen were rather shorthanded at the moment. Chris had taken the first shift, leaving Nathan to finish it up. Josiah and Vin were scheduled to return late tomorrow morning after making a delivery to the Clarkston -- they were probably camped somewhere between the towns. Buck, JD and Ezra wouldn't be back from South Bridge until tomorrow afternoon -- or evening if Ezra delayed them.

He paused outside "The Clarion" office, surprised to see Mary Travis up at that hour. She was hunched over her press, setting type for the next run of the newspaper.

She stopped her work, realizing that someone was watching her and turned to look out the window. She smiled and grabbed a rag from her desk, wiping her fingers as she walked to the door. "Nathan," she greeted, drawing the door open. "I'm surprised to see you out tonight." 

He touched the brim of his hat. "Just doin' my duty for the town, Mary."

"Quiet night for it," she said as she walked out onto the boardwalk. "Hardly seems right for you to lose sleep over it."

Nathan smiled. "I could say the same to you. You got a big story that needs to be done tonight?"

"If I want to start the run tomorrow morning, I'd better get it ready tonight," Mary said. "I'm just putting the final touches on it, then I'll put it to bed."

"And what's the big news this week."

Mary laughed, "Oh, the Beaumont's cow had twins."

"Front page news?"

"It's been rather quiet around here lately."

Jackson smiled. "I prefer it quiet to the alternative."

Mary nodded. "Not good for the news business, but I agree."

Nathan turned when he heard the sound of a horse approaching. Pretty late for a traveler, he thought. "Excuse me, Mary," he said as he moved out into the street to see what was coming toward them. The figures suddenly became visible in the darkness. He recognized Buck and Ezra riding double on Buck's horse. 

His heart skipped a beat, realizing that JD was missing. Oh my God, what happened to JD? He put that thought aside as he hurried out to meet them with Mary following.

He could see Buck holding Ezra tightly, barely able to keep him upright.

"Buck!" Nathan shouted when he reached them, "What happened? Is he okay?"

"Gotta get 'im to the clinic," Buck said tiredly. "Gotta take care of him, Nate. Ya gotta save 'im." He gently released the man into the healer's care. 

It was only once Jackson had a hold of the second rider that he realized that it was not Ezra at all, but JD, wearing Ezra's jacket. Dunne's chest was heavily bandaged with blood soaking through the cloth. The sheriff was pale and still. Gunshot! Blood loss, shock, fever, infection... the healer's mind reeled at the possibilities. 

"My God, it's JD!" Mary cried, gazing at the man in Nathan's arms. 

"Buck?" Nathan questioned, looking up at Wilmington. "What happened?"

"Get 'im to the clinic. I'll explain," Buck said as he dismounted and moved to help Nathan carry JD to the Nathan's room.

"Where's Ezra?" the healer demanded as they reached the steps and Mary ran forward to open the door. "Is he all right?"

Buck answered quickly, "God, I hope so."

 

PART 8:

Chris had finished the first night watch and was too tired to return to his cabin, so he slept in the room that he kept at the boarding house. He had fallen asleep fully clothed, not caring. He was planning to wear the same clothing tomorrow anyway.

He fell into a pleasant dream that became more pleasant by the minute. In his dream, he was on a ranch and the golden light of dusk was drifting through the windows of an uncluttered bedroom. The curtains danced in a light breeze and a woman lay beside him on the bed, the thin sheet barely covering her nakedness. 

She smiled at him and reached out her hands toward him, the sheet shifting. He leaned to her, grasping her shoulders and drawing her close. The woman -- who had started out nameless and unknown, suddenly took on Mary's face and voice. 

"Chris?" she said. 

"Mary," Chris murmured in his sleep. 

"Chris!" the dream Mary said to him as she pulled her arms from his grasp and pounded on the headboard. "Are you there?" 

Pounding...headboard... 

"Mary?" 

"It's an emergency!" 

Pounding...headboard...no... it was the door.

"Chris?" dream Mary demanded, as she continued to pound. "Chris, come quickly."

Larabee jerked awake. He was in his boarding-house room, alone. He struggled to get his mind in order as the knocking continued.

He jumped to his feet, grabbing his hat and holding it at his waist as he threw open the door to find Mary. "Mary? What're you doin' here?" 

She kept her eyes averted. "It's JD, he's been shot. Buck just brought him to the clinic." She lifted her head and looked up at Chris, seeing the hurt in his eyes. "And Ezra's missing."

Chris stood stock still for a moment, searching Mary's face. Then, he flew into motion, pausing long enough to pull on his boots and gunbelt before he took off down the hallway. The other residents of the boarding house, awakened by the knocking, leaned out of their doorways, and watched him depart. 

Chris ran out of the building and down the boardwalk through the crisp night, to burst into the clinic less than a minute after leaving his room. Buck was hovering over Nathan as the healer tended to the patient. JD was unconscious and pale from both blood loss and the strain of the journey. 

The healer looked up as Chris entered and said, "He's plenty weak. Fever's setting in." He bit his lip as he leaned over the young man. "If we're lucky, he'll be okay."

Chris then looked to Buck and demanded, "What the hell happened?"

Buck wrung his hands, and looked to his friend. "We gotta go, Chris. Oh God, we gotta go back."

Chris grabbed hold of Buck's arm, steered him to a chair and sat him down. "Where's Ezra?" he insisted. Mary silently entered the room and closed the door behind her.

Buck related the whole incident to him, from the encounter of Frank Hollowell in the saloon, the revelation of Rick Hollowell's demise, to the attack from the rest of the Hollowell clan. Buck explained to Chris his plan to provide a means of escape for Ezra and JD, and then his surprise at what finally transpired. 

"Didn't know what to think at first," Buck commented. "I still don't know if I should be pissed off at him, or goddamned thankful."

Buck continued telling him of the harrowing trip home, of the gunshots in the distance, of JD fading on him. Chris watched as Buck yawned and as his voice started to drift. Wilmington was obviously fighting to stay awake.

"Get some rest, Buck," Chris ordered.

"Can't," Buck said, struggling to get to his feet. He was plumb worn out from worry and hanging onto JD during the strenuous night ride. He'd been up most the previous night with Miss Lola. "Gotta find Ezra. He's out there alone."

"You ain't gonna be any good in this condition." Chris easily pressed Buck back into the chair. "Where did all this happen?"

Buck shook his head in frustration. "Somewhere out to the south of the Prosper place."

"Can you be more particular than that?"

Buck sighed. "We were meandering. Weren't on no particular path. There was no landmarks to speak of -- just them boulders. I could getcha there, but I can't tell you exactly how."

Chris nodded grimly. "I can handle it."

Buck sat back in resignation, his attention again on JD. "Nate, he's doing all right, ain't he?"

Nathan didn't look up from his work. JD flinched under him as the healer worked to tend the wound. "I'll need to keep an eye on him for a while. You done all you can for 'im. It's time you got some sleep."

Chris stood for a moment, watching Nathan work and JD toss, and then he turned and left the room. 

His determined stride took him to the livery. He had already bridled his horse and was reaching for the saddle blanket when Mary came up behind him. 

"What do you think you're doing?" she asked. 

"I'm gonna find Ezra," Chris replied evenly. 

"How?" Mary inquired. "You don't have a clue where he'd be. Buck couldn't say for certain where the whole thing took place, so you don't even know where to start looking." 

"I'm goin' after him," Chris responded. "I may not know where it happened, but I can follow the path JD and Buck took getting here. I ain't gonna leave Ezra out there alone." 

"It's too dark," Mary said, knitting her brow. 

"I can manage," Chris replied decisively. 

"It's been hours since this all started. Ezra's probably escaped them by now."

"Either that or he's in a heap of trouble." 

"Listen, Mr. Larabee, Chris," Mary said, keeping her voice steady. "You should wait until Buck can help you, until Vin and Josiah get back. It'll be morning soon. They'll be back in a few hours. You can't go out there alone."

"Ezra's at it alone." 

"You won't be able to find him until it gets light. It's too dark to track him. You're upset that Ezra's alone, and then you go and do the same thing yourself? Don't be so pig headed," she spoke severely. "Wait until you get the help of the others."

"Well, I can get a start in that direction if nothing else," Chris replied.

"If you go alone, you'll just get yourself killed. If you wait for the others, you may have a chance of actually helping Ezra," Mary stated. She watched as Chris continued to prepare the horse and then she added, "Ezra'll probably be back any minute. You know how good he is about getting out of trouble. You'll probably pass him on the way out." 

Chris stopped. "Yeah, I'd put money on that. Still, he's mighty good at gettin' himself into trouble. I'm fixin' to be there if he needs a means out." Chris nodded to her as he moved his horse out of the livery. 

"At least send for Vin and Josiah," Mary said. "They're probably only a few hours out of town. Chris, please don't go out there alone."

Chris regarded her for a moment and then rode off into the night without another word.

 

PART 9: 

"Nathan," JD called weakly. 

Nathan stirred from his chair and leaned forward. "Lay quiet, now," the healer said softly. "No movin' around." 

Buck, JD thought. He could remember Buck holding him up in the saddle, talking to him, encouraging him as they rode toward home, as the waves of pain had captured him. JD had been slipping, falling into some horrible darkness and Buck was there to hold him back. Buck... 

"Nathan, where's Buck?"

"Asleep over yonder," Nathan said with a nod. "He got you home right fast. Brought you in safe and sound." He picked up a pitcher and filled a glass. "You lost a lot of blood. I'm gonna need you to drink some water now. Thirsty?" 

JD nodded. JD tried to bite back the pain as Nathan assisted him in sitting up. After he finished the water, Nathan settled him again in the bed. 

JD could only remember bits and pieces of what had happened. He could recall the force of the shot driving him off his horse, the pain, Buck pulling him into the rocks. He could remember Ezra firing at someone, Buck tending to his wound. Buck left. And then -- Ezra was trying to move him. It hurt. Then what? Ezra was talking to him and settling him down again, making him comfortable. And then Buck was there, but Ezra was gone. 

"Ezra?" JD turned his head, looking for Standish. He caught sight of the familiar red jacket and hat hanging from the bedpost. He smiled. "Nathan? Ezra came back?"

Nathan gently laid his hand on JD's chest and said, "Chris's gone off to find him."

JD frowned at this response. JD remembered -- Ezra had grabbed the bowler and the bloodied jacket, and pulled them on while JD watched. 

"Don't worry a bit, Mr. Dunne," Ezra had said to him. "I'll take excellent care of your property. I only ask that you return the favor." Ezra had briefly modeled the apparel. "I believe I will make a passable 'Sheriff of Four Corners', don't you agree?" He had smiled and added, "As long as no one looks too closely. No one would believe the ruse if they could see me clearly. I'm evidently of a different breed and simply not the sheriff type – we're as different as night and day." 

Ezra had leaned over, tossing his red jacket over JD. "Remain perfectly quiet, Mr. Dunne. Buck will return shortly. He'll see to your well-being. Everything will be all right," Ezra had said. "Be certain to give Mr. Wilmington my apologies for the change in plans, but the solution came to me like a bolt out of the blue." And then Ezra had dropped his black low-crown hat over JD's face and disappeared. 

The young man felt a coldness pass over him at this memory. Oh God, no, JD thought. If those men caught up to Ezra -- in my clothes. If anything happened to him -- oh God. He could remember the shouted conversation of the Hollowell brothers. Oh, God. 

"JD?" Nathan inquired, seeing the anguish pass over JD's countenance. 

"They wanted me, Nathan, just me," JD said sadly. "It'll be my fault if somethin' happens to Ezra." He could feel himself weakening again. 

Nathan shook his head and said, "Don't you go thinkin' that, JD. It's no fault of yours that those crazy brothers came after you and it's no fault of yours that that insane southerner did what he did."

"He did it for me," JD said as he succumbed to sleep. 

 

PART 10: 

Chris headed toward South Bridge. He stopped his horse for the umpteenth time and dismounted. Crouching near the ground, he searched for a sign in the moonlight. It was enough to see his way, but the night was too dark to find the trail left by Buck's horse. The baked soil left little clue that anyone may have passed here. The best he could do for now was to continue on toward South Bridge by way of the Prosper place, and hope for the best. 

He listened to the night, trying to catch the sound of someone moving about, hoping that at any moment he would run into the wayward gambler. Ezra had to have gotten away, Chris thought.   
Chris stood beside his horse for a moment, laying his hand against Job's soft muzzle. The men who had tried to kill JD, the men who were chasing after Ezra, were still out there. They were dangerous men, well-armed and with revenge on their minds. He should be cautious. His own life was in jeopardy. He should be silent. 

Ah, screw that. 

"Ezra!" Chris shouted out and listened to the silence that followed. "Ezra!"

Come on you slippery son of a bitch, answer me. Come on, you little weasel, you snake, you stubborn, southern sneak! 

Silence still. 

He shouted at the top of his lungs, "Ezra Standish, quit your lolly-gaggin' and get your gold-plated ass over here!"

A night bird took wing and something scuttled away in the blackness not far from him -- and nothing else. Where the hell was Standish? 

Larabee sighed and mounted his horse and continued onward.   
He listened, hearing only the slow crunch of rock under Job's feet, the horse's breathing, the jangle of the bit. An owl called from somewhere in the distance -- a lonely sound.

Damn it, Chris thought as they continued onward. What the hell am I doin' out here? Mary was right. I should have stayed put, should have let Buck sleep a piece and then haul him back out here. Instead I'm out here wandering pointlessly. 

Chris was glad that he had come across Cal Stoker at least. The rancher had been out on his property in the early hours and Chris saw fit to use him to complete an errand. Something might turn out right in all of this.

Job suddenly lifted his head and snorted, looking off to the west. 

"You hear somethin', boy?" Chris asked, as the horse pivoted his ears. "Let's go check it out."

 

PART 11: 

Ezra watched the sky, waiting for dawn. He had tried to get comfortable, but that was an impossible task at this moment. He moved his right leg with trepidation, careful not to rustle the branch. He didn't want his leg to go to sleep. 

Carefully, he watched for any sign of moment in the darkness. From his perch high up in the tree, he had a fairly good view of the surrounding area. He had seen the Hollowells stop for the night in a copse of trees. Ezra had moved off a short distance from them, finding a suitable stand to hide his horse, and found a tall tree to use as a perch. 

The Hollowells' fire had burned all through the night. Ezra sighed, wishing he had that warmth at the moment. JD's jacket did little to protect him against the night chill. He rubbed his hands together and blew on them. God, he hated being cold.

Ezra had noted that the fire had been tended from time to time and that at least one of the Hollowell brothers snored -- loudly. Other than that, the camp had been quiet.

He looked down to ensure that Chaucer was still below him, dozing beneath the tree. The horse would have to be well rested. He had to stay ahead of the brothers, had to keep the Hollowells in the chase, if his plan were to work. It would be more dangerous in the daylight of course, in full view. 

He had lost his pursuers more than once during the night ride. It grated against all his self-preservation skills to constantly draw attention back to himself, but the knowledge that he was bringing the Hollowells further and further from the injured sheriff -- and closer to his goal -- kept him going. Finally, realizing that he had gained a good distance from Buck and JD, and feeling his horse's weariness, Ezra let the Hollowells lose him in the dark. The five men, frustrated and tired, stopped the pursuit without any fuss. 

Ezra hugged JD's coat against himself. He again wished that he had his wool jacket. Yes, it might look fancy, but it was made of the finest materials and provided him with ample warmth. This garment was a pale comparison. The torn shoulder didn't help matters and neither did the blood that had now dried and stiffened the jacket. Ezra fingered the bloody tear and again hoped that the young man was safe. 

Standish was hungry. It would have been welcome to have something to eat at that moment. He remembered the biscuits and jam, the tinned fruit and the sandwiches that he had stashed in his saddlebags, and had left behind in the rocks. His stomach growled and he hoped that the noise wasn't as loud as it seemed. He would eventually have to find water, as his canteen was half-empty. He exhaled, wishing that he had his flask at least, but of course the alcohol had been put to a good use, to clean JD's gunshot wound. Still, rot-gut would have worked just as well as the fine Kentucky Bourbon that he gave up to the cause. 

He rubbed his eyes, trying to force the weariness from them. He hadn't slept a wink as he kept his attention on that small camp in the distance. If the Hollowells showed any sign of movement, any sign that they were planning to start on the trail again, Ezra would have to get moving. He shook his head at his weariness -- his own fault -- shouldn't have been up all of the previous night -- and most of the night before.

The sky was just taking on the first subtle shades of morning. Ezra sighed and carefully moved out of his seat and down the tree, doing his best to keep the rustling branches quiet.   
Chaucer looked up at him as he came closer and nickered quietly when Ezra finally reached the ground. 

"Sorry about this, old friend," Ezra whispered as he tightened the cinch on the saddle. "It's a pity that you could not have been more comfortable all night, but I'm afraid that I needed you ready." He patted the horse's neck before he led it out of the cover of the trees. 

Chaucer snuffled at the man's jacket, and curled his lip at the scent of blood. 

Ezra stood in the open for a moment, gazing back at the Hollowell's camp and the lightening sky behind it. He mounted his horse and waited. Buck certainly has gotten JD home by now, Ezra thought. It would do no harm to attend to my own safety now. But what good would that do for JD? 

The young man's life was too important. He shuddered to think how JD's death would affect the other lawmen. No, he would not allow that to happen. John Dunne brought such youthful exuberance to their little group. It seemed to be an act against nature to end his life so quickly, so violently and pointlessly. 

Where would the Hollowells go if they gave up on this chase? They'd head to Four Corners -- directly to JD. If JD's injuries delayed the arrival to safety, the Hollowells would catch up to Buck and JD on the trail, defenseless. 

Of course, it was highly possible that the resourceful Mr. Wilmington was able to get JD to town by now. Certainly there had been enough time. Well then, the five Hollowell brothers would go on to Four Corners to complete their mission in town. Chris, Nathan and Buck would protect the young man. Hopefully, Vin and Josiah would be there as well by that time. Yes, the five lawmen could definitely defeat the five Hollowells, but at what cost? Someone could be injured, killed. 

This, he thought, is exactly the sort of thing that happens when you start caring too much about other people. You end up terrified by the thought of harm coming to any one of them. You end up putting yourself in danger to protect them. You end up hungry and cold, discomforted. No gain. You end up in a tree all night. Exactly the sort of thing his mother had warned him about – well, except for the tree. 

Ezra still had his plan -- an idea that would work. If everything went well, the Hollowells would have no reason to go on to Four Corners. They would want to get as far from that town as possible, if his plan worked. 

And of course, the plan called for the pursuit to continue. Ezra eyed the stand of trees that hid the Hollowells. 

"Are you ready?" he asked the horse, who nickered in response. 

Ezra shouted and the horse took off, again toward their destination, while sleepy-eyed Hollowell boys stumbled toward their mounts.

 

PART 12: 

Nathan looked up as Vin Tanner and Josiah Sanchez burst into the clinic.

"What's goin' on?" Vin demanded, looking from Nathan to Buck to JD, only Nathan was awake to answer. 

Nathan glanced at the clock as he set down his book. "You're early," he said. The sun was just up and the early morning light flooded into the small room. 

"Chris sent Cal Stoker out to fetch us," Vin said as he and Josiah headed toward the bed. "We were camped out by Blue Creek." 

Josiah smiled thinly. "The fool almost got his head shot off. Didn't think to hollar out ahead to let us know he was coming. Think we scared a year or two off of his life." 

Vin looked worriedly at JD. "He okay?" the tracker asked tentatively. 

Nathan nodded. "Should be. I'm gonna have to keep an eye on him though." 

Josiah's glance fell on the sleeping Wilmington. "And Chris? Any word from him or Ezra?" He tried to keep his voice even. "Stoker didn't have much to say." 

Nathan shook his head. "Ain't seen either of 'em yet." 

"I 'spect we should head after 'em," Vin stated. "There's no telling whether Chris was able to catch up with Ezra." 

"We had best be going," Josiah responded. "I feel our brothers may need our assistance, and one of them has been gone too long." He turned toward the door, obviously itching to be underway. 

Vin nodded and strode across to where Buck still slept. He drew back and gave the chair leg one tremendous kick, nearly knocking it sideways. 

Wilmington woke with a start, his head banging against the window frame. He jerked upright, startled to find himself in the clinic and daylight streaming through the window behind him. He looked at Vin and Josiah standing over him. 

"What the...?" he muttered. "Ah, hell," he added, remembering what had happened that night. He turned quickly to the bed. "JD! Nate, how is he?" Buck demanded. 

Nathan nodded. "As long as I can keep the fever at bay, he should be all right. You did a good job with him, Buck." 

Buck nodded and smiled, but then his smile dropped. 

"Ezra," Buck muttered, rubbing his eyes. "God, we gotta go after Ezra." He staggered to his feet and quickly grabbed his hat and his coat. He realized that someone else was missing. "Chris? Where is he?" 

"Went out after Ezra," Nathan reminded. 

He swung a furious glance at Nathan. "Dammit, Nate, how could you let me fall asleep? I was 'spose to go back for him!" 

"Couldn't do much for that, Buck," Nathan said with a shrug. "You were at the end of your rope." 

Josiah grabbed Buck by the shoulder and propelled him to the door. "There isn't time to wonder about what could have or should have been done. No changing that. Right now, the three of us are going after Ezra and Chris. We'll get 'them home." 

 

PART 13: 

The damn hat was just too damn big! There was nothing worse than ill-fitting clothing, Ezra thought as he kept his head tipped in an effort to keep the hat in place. Well, he thought, there is one thing worse than ill-fitting clothing, and that is soiled clothing. Ezra glanced again at the blood-stiffened shoulder of his jacket. What he wouldn't give to get out of that coat, to get away from that overpowering scent of blood, JD's blood. 

JD had better be all right. If the boy perished then – well -- all of this would be for nothing. Ezra shook his head, almost dislodging the bowler. No, JD would be safe by now. Buck certainly would have brought him to Nathan's. If the young man were with Nathan, then he would be saved. 

Ezra had no doubts about Jackson's skills. Yes, Nathan was a fine example of a human being. One of the finest Ezra had ever known -- a far cry from himself. 

Ezra sighed, thinking of the healer. They hadn't hit it off very well to begin with -- his own fault entirely. Ezra Standish always let his mouth get the better of him, sometimes forgetting the way his words could sting. Just another of the many things he regretted about the way he lived his life.

Nathan deserved better.

With any luck, Buck would have gotten JD to safety long ago -- to Nathan -- and everything would be fine. 

Ezra kept just out of sight of his pursuers. They hadn't gained on him. They must be staying together, pacing themselves against their slowest horse. That gave him some advantage. He slowed from time to time, to rest Chaucer and could catch sight of the five horsemen in the distance. Once he was certain they had seen him, he would take off again. 

He did have to fire on them more than once to assure they kept their distance. He swore at every wasted bullet, knowing that he was growing closer to being defenseless when he ran out of ammunition. He had already emptied his Colt. Just the Remington and the derringer left. Of course the derringer would be of no use except at closer range and Ezra had no intention of letting it get to that. 

"Not much further, Chaucer," he promised his horse as he continued onward. "Once we reach our goal, we shall put an end to this madness."

 

PART 14:   
"Chris!" Vin shouted, and waved broadly at the figure in the distance. Through his spyglass he could make out the familiar dark coloring of the horse and rider. 

Vin, Josiah and Buck continued as Chris closed the distance, leading a second horse behind him.   
"You found Toby?" Buck asked, seeing JD's horse. 

Chris grimaced. "Damn horse! I was chasin' it for hours in the night. It was dawn by the time I figured out what I was trailing. Here I am, trying to track down Ezra or those Hollowell boys and all I get is one damn horse."

"Still," Vin said, "JD'll be awful glad to have him back."

"Is JD doin' okay?" Chris asked, his gaze quickly flickering to each man, to read the answer before it was given. 

"Good," Buck responded. "Doin' real good." 

"Nathan seemed to think he'll be all right," Josiah added. "Any sign of Ezra?" 

Chris shook his head. "I haven't seen anything all night 'cept for JD's horse. There's been no sign of him." 

He heard Josiah's woeful sigh. 

"Well," Vin said. "We'd best get a movin' then. We'll catch up with 'em." 

Chris frowned. "I've wasted hours now. Would've been better off staying put. I could have gotten a wink or two of sleep." 

"Yeah, if Ezra's got any sense, he'll lie low and let those boys go on past him," Vin said reassuringly. "We'll catch up to 'im in a minute. You'll see." 

Chris snorted. "If Ezra escaped, shouldn't I have met up to him by now on his way home?" 

Vin laughed lightly. "Knowing 'im, he's probably holed up somewhere taking some shut-eye. Probably doesn't even realize that we'd be out here lookin' for him." He smiled, willing it to be true

The four men continued on the path toward South Bridge, back to where things had started going to hell. 

 

PART 15: 

"Buck?" JD called with a start. 

"It's okay, JD," Nathan soothed. 

"Buck?" JD asked again, turning his head toward the window and not seeing Wilmington any longer. 

"He'll be back," Nathan assured as JD turned his brown eyes toward him. 

"Where'd he go?" 

"Gone to fetch that fool southerner," Nathan said with an easy smile. 

JD nodded, accepting this response. 

"I'm gonna want to check your wound, make sure the stitching looks good. You ready for that?" 

Again JD nodded and Nathan sat down beside him. "Won't take but a minute," Nathan promised. 

JD turned his head, pressing his face into the pillow as Nathan began to loosen the dressing. 

"Hang in there, JD, I'll get it done right quick." The healer looked worriedly at the sheriff's pale face. "Gotta make certain you got no infection here." 

He finished his work as quickly and settled the young man again. "I'm gonna want you to get some rest now," Nathan said calmly. "You need some time to heal." 

JD shook his head slowly. "Need to stay awake. Wait for Buck to come back. Him and the others will find Ezra, won't they?" 

"They'll do the looking, JD. No need for you to worry yourself."

"Gotta wait up for Ezra," JD said tiredly. 

"You bein' awake or asleep won't hurry him none. You know how that man can dawdle. How 'bout this. I promise to wake you the second we know what's gone on with him." 

JD looked skeptical but finally agreed. Nathan settled the young man in the bed and waited until JD drifted off to sleep. The healer remained for several minutes, listening to the even breathing of the sleeping sheriff before he exited the room to stand on the balcony for a breath of fresh air. 

Outside the clinic, people moved easily down the street as if nothing was wrong. They laughed as if nothing was out of place. They chatted as if no one was missing and in danger. They walked along as if no one had gone off on some damned perilous ride and may be dead or alive -- no tellin' which. They went on with their lives as if all was right in the world.

Nathan scuffed his foot against the plank floor. He was worried about Ezra. If anything's happened to him, he paused, not knowing how to complete the thought.

Damn fool! 

Nathan leaned against the door to his clinic and sighed.

 

PART 16:

Ezra guided his horse along the lip of the precipice. He felt rather pleased with himself. He had reached his goal -- Banyon Cliff.

The cliff was formidable, steep and unforgiving. Seventy feet below, the Banyon River raged, furious with white water. People spoke of this area with a note of respect, knowing that a misstep would bring death. Natives of the area steered clear of Banyon Cliff. Travelers with any sense whatsoever never strayed anywhere near the sheer drop-off to the river below.

Ezra guided Chaucer close to the edge, looking downward as they traveled, trusting the horse to find adequate footing. He held onto the narrow brim of the too-large hat with one hand, and his gun with the other. The wind, gusting up the cliff side, threatened to blow the hat away, and he couldn't allow that to happen just yet. No, the disguise must be complete.

Ezra glanced behind him, checking to see if the Hollowells had caught up with him yet, and then returned his gaze to the cliff below him. He spotted what he was looking for and the horse came to a halt.

"I knew this would come in handy someday," he said out loud, remembering the day that he had traveled along this route with Vin. The tracker had admonished him for coming so close to the edge, spouting no end of sage advice. Ezra had listened to the tracker of course, as he always did -- and pretended not to. Tanner, although a rustic in the most obvious sense of the word, was no fool, and was a veritable wealth of information when it came to things pertaining to the outdoor life -- and information was always a valuable commodity.

Funny, Standish thought, as he gazed down the vertigo-inducing descent, he never would have considered Tanner to be the type of person worth listening to. Yes, the two of them were as different as different could be, and yet, Ezra found a strange kinship with the reticent Tanner, almost a brotherhood.

Ezra laughed, wondering if Vin would appreciate that thought. Yes, what a strange family that would have made. He imagined Vin growing up in the pool halls and saloons alongside himself, under Maude's tutelage. He smiled sadly, realizing that it might have been a pleasant thing -- less lonely. Even the endless parade of reluctant relatives might have been more acceptable. Some of the more pleasant ones would have liked Vin.

A movement in the distance caught his attention, drawing it away from his thoughts. "I see that I made it here just in time," he said as he dismounted and stood calmly beside his horse, at the edge of the long fall.

The five riders on blue roans stopped in their tracks. The men regarded Ezra from a distance. Ezra swallowed and jammed the bowler tighter to his head.

"Come on," he said under his breath, maneuvering Chaucer until he was pointed vaguely in the direction of home, and then Ezra made his way back to the edge. "I know you are aching to finish me. Come on then. Now's your chance."

One of the men shouted, but they were too far away to clearly hear what was being said.

"Someone must have an itchy trigger-finger. I doubt that patience was much of a virtue in the Hollowell home," Ezra watched the Hollowells and then frowned when they started coming closer. "Not too close now." He aimed his Remington in their direction and fired.

He smiled nervously when he saw their weapons come to bear on him. The smile became more nervous as they came closer. "No, we don't want you in range," he said as he fired again. Chaucer cringed and looked over his shoulder at his owner. Ezra pulled the trigger and clicked on an empty chamber. Damnation, out of ammunition. Just the derringer left.

"Wait for it..." Ezra thought to himself as he holstered the empty gun. He watched the five matching horses come dangerously close. His concentration on the men, Ezra accidentally released his hold on the bowler and a gust of wind carried it away. He made a quick reach for it, but the hat fluttered out of his grasp.

The movement was enough to make one of the Hollowells give in. The shot fell short, but the second the sound reached him, Ezra lurched violently, flinging himself backward over the cliff and bringing an open hand against his horse's rump.

Chaucer bolted and Ezra fell.

 

PART 17:

And Ezra was airborne, falling toward the white water below. He reached out frantically, grabbing for the stunted bushes growing from the steep sides of the cliff. Dead branches snapped at his touch as he hurtled past them. He hung for a second on a dried root before he finally dropped to the ledge below.

He landed with a 'whump' on the small surface and unfortunately started to roll.

He lashed out his arms, desperate to grab hold of something and managed to entangle his arms in the dry remains of some unfortunate plant life. His body continued to roll and his legs were suddenly flung out over the distant rapids. Frantically he pulled himself upward, back onto the ledge. He tucked his legs up under him and scuttled to the overhang of rock. He wedged himself tightly under it as he heard the approach of horses.

He gasped for breath, trying to force himself into silence as he heard the voices of the Hollowells above him.

"Hot damn!"

"Jesus! Look at the drop-off!"

They were directly above him. Ezra scrunched himself into the tiny hiding place, hoping they didn't stay long, hoping they didn't think that the ledge was attainable.

"I got 'im!"

"Sure did, Matt. Didn't think you had that kinda range."

"Where the hell is the little bastard?"

"See 'im anywhere, Gus?"

"Looks like he fell right through them bushes there."

"Musta gone all the way down. Musta hit the river."

"Shot an' drown an' smashed up on the rocks."

"Yeah, smashed 'im on the rocks. Think he bounced? That musta been somethin' to see."

"Think his head split open when he hit?"

Laughter 

"Geez, I wished we coulda been closer when it happened. I woulda loved to see that son of a bitch die."

More laughter.

"Bastard deserved it!"

"Yeah!"

"I wanna see the body!"

"River's got it."

"Damn!"

"Sure was tired of followin' him all night."

"The little guy shocked me, huh? Who woulda thought that the bastard coulda hung on that long after you got 'im the first time, Fred."

"We done our duty. Justice is served."

Ezra relaxed, smiling. The Hollowells thought they had killed JD. They would leave now and never haunt Dunne again. Certainly the brothers would realize that the other lawmen of Four Corners would come after them for the murder of their beloved sheriff. If they knew what was good for them, the Hollowells would high-tail it out of the territory immediately.

Then another voice said, "Hey, there's his hat."

Ezra's heart beat faster. Where?

"I want it -- a souvenir."

"Dammit, Dale!"

"Come on, gimmie a hand, Earl."

Ezra could hear them scrabbling around now. A litter of rocks cascaded down onto the ledge a short distance from him. He sucked in his breath and pulled himself as close to the rocks as he could manage.

"Almost got it!"

"Dale, you're gonna make me fall."

"Almost got it!"

"Knock it off, you two. We gotta go."

"Hang on, Fred, I want it."

"Forget it."

"Look, just give me a rope and I can reach it. I want it."

Ezra fought with the urge to peek out and see exactly where the bowler was. He hoped it was nowhere near his position. He kept his head tucked in and waited, willing a gust of wind to blow away the damnable thing away.

"Shit, Dale! It's a fuckin' hat. We got the bastard who killed Rick and got Frank thrown in jail. You screw up and get yourself killed trying to get a crappy hat and then where will we be? That damn sheriff will have gotten three of the Hollowell boys. Hell, you'll probably pull Earl in with you and then what will I tell Ma?"

"Screw it, Dale, let's forget about it."

"Aw, come on! You guys get everything! I called that hat. I want it."

"Shut up, Dale."

"Yeah, shut up, Dale."

Yes, Ezra thought. Shut up, Dale.

Ezra heard Dale's sigh of resignation as Earl pulled him back up. "Dang it, I sure wanted that hat."

 

PART 18:

The four lawmen hurried along the path that Buck had taken through the night. Buck said nothing as he rode, remembering the ride to Four Corners, remembering how wounded JD had been.

JD had lost consciousness, and it was all Buck could do to hold the young man in the saddle and spur his horse on to Four Corners. He had to save the kid, had to get him to Nathan and safety. Had to leave Ezra to whatever fate he had thrown himself into.

Buck sighed, wondering what had happened. If the gambler's luck held, he could have escaped into the darkness. He could be perfectly safe now. Buck smiled, hoping they encountered Ezra ambling toward them with his usual over-confident smirk.

Then again, if the Hollowells caught up to him -- then Ezra would be dead. Buck remembered gunshots in the distance as he had held onto JD, heading homeward. It would only take one bullet to kill a man.

Chris looked over to his old friend and said, "We'll find him."

"Why did he do it?" Buck asked, not even knowing that he spoke the words out loud.

"Probably thought it would work," Chris replied. He inclined his head as he looked at Buck. "And it did. You got JD home, safe."

"Yeah, but it probably got him killed," Buck responded bitterly.

"Don't give up hope, brother," Josiah said encouragingly. "We all know that Ezra is as slick as they come, and if there is a way out of this, he'll find it." 

"There were five of 'em," Buck declared darkly. "How's he gonna get away from five."

"Oh, he'll cheat," Vin assured.

 

PART 19: 

Ezra waited.

He heard the sound of retreating hoofbeats and waited. If any of the men had stayed behind, if any of them were examining the cliff, if he moved too soon, he would be discovered.

If they had ridden off slowly, and then paused for one last look along the cliff wall, and if he chose that moment to climb out, it would all be over. So he waited -- waited long enough for the Hollowells to be long gone.

He wrapped his arms around himself and listened to the sound of the water rushing below him, feeling the wind gusting past him. It was chilly here, too cool for comfort. His side hurt from the fall, detailing bruises. He glanced at his hands, noting that he had managed to acquire a few scratches from the bushes. The jacket and his trousers were torn.

He felt along his right arm. He already knew that he had lost the derringer, felt it pop out as he scrambled to pull himself onto the ledge, saw it fly past his hand (which was rather busy at the time), watched it bounce off the stone ledge and plummet to the river below. He had just hoped that maybe he was wrong and that the small gun was still in its rigging. No, it was gone. He was unarmed now.

But, he had succeeded. He smiled at the thought. The Hollowells should be putting distance between themselves and Four Corners now. JD was safe.

At least Chris wouldn't fault him for that. He had provided the distraction that saved the sheriff. Larabee would probably be rather unhappy about this entire incident, about how he had allowed JD to become injured in the first place.

I should have figured that something like this would've come from the encounter with Frank Hollowell in the saloon, Ezra thought. Well, Mr. Larabee, what do you expect? You knew what you were getting into when you gave me that second chance. Can't count on me to provide sufficient protection to the other members of this company of peacekeepers.

Yes, Ezra thought with a sigh, Chris should be much more careful about such things in the future. Larabee and the others deserved better than a self-involved con artist who didn't even notice the danger his compatriots were in.

Ezra waited until he was certain before he stiffly crawled out from under the outcrop and out onto the ledge. He looked up to ensure that no one was standing there, waiting for him. Only blue sky above the cliff -- sheer and steep. He looked straight up at the featureless sides of the rock. The bushes he had used to slow his fall were out of reach, and rather devastated by his plunge through them. They would not provide a means out. This was not going to be easy.

He walked along the narrow ledge, scrutinizing the cliff, looking for a means of escape. There had to be a way out.

His gaze fell upon the bowler hat that had ended up snagged in a scraggly bush halfway up the rock-face. If Dale had made it to that point, he may have been able to spy Ezra in his rather insignificant cover. Damn that hat!

He continued his search for an escape. No, it definitely was not going to be easy. He switched his attention to the river below. There was nothing between this ledge and the rapids. A mistake, a miscalculation now, would be the end of him. His body would be carried all the way to Mexico.

He sighed. "You definitely should've considered this in your little plan," he said to himself.

He tried to find a handhold to pull himself up, but the rock was almost smooth. He continued his attempts and was able to gain several feet off the ledge, but ended up dropping back when the ascent proved impossible.

He looked in irritation at his hands. He was obviously ruining his perfectly manicured nails. "Isn't this great," he muttered.

He moved further down the ledge, looking for a place where he could actually gain some purchase, finally ended up below the bowler hat that bounced in the wind, trapped in the bush.

The bush was growing from a crack that started at the ledge and continued upward. Now that crack, he would be able to climb it if he could get his hands into it. He tested the fissure, finding he could wedge a hand into it. It just might work. He looked up at the bowler that bobbed in the branches of the bush.

"Why thank you, Mr. Dunne," Ezra said, "for your helpful observation."

 

PART 20:

"It was here," Buck said, pointing to the group of rocks. They dismounted to examine the scene, the horses ready to rest after the ride. 

Josiah sighed, seeing the saddlebags and the scattered boxes of ammunition that still remained. Ezra didn't have any food with him, no blankets, hardly any ammo. He shook away that thought and looked up to Buck.

"He headed off that way," Buck said reluctantly as he pointed.

"Where were these Hollowell boys?" Chris asked.

Buck led them to the rocks where their pursuers had found cover.

"Left in a hurry, I see," Josiah said, noting the bedrolls, coffeepot, cooking pans, saddlebags and other camp goods that were left scattered in the area. 

"Were they planning to spend the night here or were they just stupid?" Chris asked.

Josiah sighed. "I'm beginning to think the latter. I just pray that they're stupid enough to let Ezra get away." 

"They'll be comin' back for it," Vin suggested. "Would've been back for it by now if they could'a."

Buck smiled for the first time since they had started this journey. "If they haven't come back, then they never caught up to Ezra! I bet they're still lookin' for that slippery devil."

Chris nodded in agreement. "Sounds about right."

Buck was about to retrieve Ezra's saddlebags when Vin suddenly grabbed him, forcing Buck to the ground.

"Down! Everybody down!" Vin hissed and the group dove for cover. "Someone's comin'!"

Josiah crawled to the horses, ensuring that they were hidden while the others took positions to see what was coming toward them.

Buck peered out at the two horsemen. "It's them!" he whispered. "Blue roans. The whole damn bunch of 'em had blue roans."

"Shit," Vin muttered, aiming his mare's leg.

"Only two of them," Chris considered. "Why?"

Buck watched the two horsemen approach slowly. "Maybe they sent these two back to get their stuff 'cause the others are still trying to find Ezra," he said hopefully. "They ain't got him."

The riders were within range when they came to a halt. Chris could see the taller of the two (both of them little more than boys) hold out his hand to stop the other. They pulled their weapons and aimed into the rocks.

"Uh-uh-uh," Chris chided. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

The two youths changed their aim, trying to find a target.

"Think about it boys," Chris continued. "You're sittin' pretty -- easy targets. Give up and you'll live to see another day."

"I'd listen to 'im," Buck put in.

"Yup," Vin added. "Won't be no sense to put up a fight."

Josiah added his own voice, "It'd be for the best, boys."

Realizing that they were outnumbered, the shorter of the two threw down his weapon. The taller gave the other an ugly look and tossed his gun as well. Chris and the others ran out to secure them. The riders were the youngest of the Hollowells, only teenagers.

"I could'a told ya this would happen," the taller said.

"Shut up, Dale," said the shorter.

"Yeah, the only reason Fred sent us was 'cause he knew this would happen," Dale glowered at the lawmen that approached him. "He sold us out, Gus."

"Shut up, Dale," Gus muttered again, holding his hands up as Vin reached him. He watched the tracker fearfully. "Fred didn't know nuthin'."

"We could'a put up a hell of a fight," Dale shot out angrily. "Could'a took 'em, too."

"Boys," Josiah said with an air of menace. "I believe that it's time to give up."

Gus was obviously frightened, but the elder, Dale, had a cockiness that sent a chill through Buck. Something about Dale's attitude told Wilmington that the worst had come to pass.

"Where is he?" Buck demanded, pulling Dale roughly from his horse. "Where the hell is he?"

Dale smiled, either too brave or too stupid to be frightened by Wilmington's aggression. "The sheriff? We did what we set out to do."

Chris' eyes went cold as he turned his gaze on Dale. "What do you mean?"

Vin pulled Gus to the ground and demanded of the quaking younger sibling, "What did you do? Where is he?"

Josiah found he couldn't move. He could hardly breathe.

Gus looked to his brother. "Don't say nuttin', Dale."

Dale just shook his head. "Eye for an eye! He killed Rick."

"Eye for an eye..." Josiah muttered, remembering the last time that he had heard that phrase. No, dear God, no!

"He didn't do nothin' to your brother!" Buck growled. "You brother took his own life."

"Wouldn't 'a happened if it weren't for yer sheriff," Dale said, smiling.

Buck loomed over him. "What did you do?"

"Drown 'im," Dale said happily. "Shot 'im. Sent him offa cliff. Killed 'im three times over."

Josiah moved in, the menace obvious.

"It weren't us that shot him," Gus cried, trying to lessen their crime. "It were Fred that got 'im first. Then it were Matt."

"Where!" Josiah growled at the youngest Hollowell who looked about ready to piss his pants.

"Banyon Cliff," Gus answered quickly. "It were Banyon! He fell all the way."

"Shit," Buck said, flinging Dale to the ground. "Ah, shit."

Josiah eyes focused on nothing as he listened.

"Banyon," Vin echoed hollowly. He turned to Chris. The cliff was well known by all the men. The tracker turned his gaze from one of his friends to the other, seeing the same horrified look. 

Josiah stiffened, knowing that no one could survive that fall into that rocky, wild river.

Yeah," Dale said with a smirk. "I seen him bouncin' off the rocks below. Done split 'im open. Tossed his brains like candy. Then the river done carried 'im off. Looked like sack a feed on the water."

"Shut up, Dale," Gus yelled urgently, seeing the rage growing in the men around them.

"You bastard!" Buck growled, lurching forward. He hauled Dale back to his feet. "When?" Wilmington demanded, his face red with rage.

Vin increased his hold on Gus. Josiah couldn't quite move yet. Chris laid a hand on his gun, his eyes fixed on the brothers.

Gus tried to break away from Vin to get to his brother. "Hours ago! It was like four or so hours ago. Don't go hurtin' him!"

Josiah felt a cold sorrow reach him as he laid a hand on Buck's shoulder. He could see the anger and pain in Wilmington's visage. He had seen anger like that before. He had known such anger himself -- had seen the consequences. Buck would kill Dale if he had the chance.

"Don't do anythin' foolish," Josiah said quietly. The preacher felt numb after hearing Dale's words. His mind couldn't quite wrap around the image presented, couldn't quite fathom it. "It won't do any good to hurt 'im." Only the cold pain that gripped him kept him from throttling the boy himself.

"Yeah," Buck replied, grabbing the young Hollowell by his shirt and lifting him off his feet, shaking him violently. "Sure would feel good though."

Dale's eyes went huge with fright as he suddenly gained a modicum of intelligence.

Gus' voice continued, "Please, don't hurt 'im. Please, he's my brother. He dinnet do it neither. He weren't the one that killed that sheriff. Please don't hurt 'im!"

Buck's gaze went from Dale's terrified face to Gus' frightened eyes. "Please," Gus begged again, falling to his knees, with Vin still gripping his forearm. "Please! I'll do anythin' you want. Please just don't hurt 'im!"

Josiah watched as Buck kept his hold on Dale. Gus reached turned toward him, reached out a hand to try his case with someone else. "Please, Mister," he said, touching Josiah's coat.

The preacher could easily see the fear in the boy, the pain that filled him at the thought of harm coming to his brother. Did anyone plead for Ezra when the Hollowells descended on him?

Buck dropped Dale with a groan of disgust and stalked away. He rubbed his hands against his face as he tried to get away from the Hollowell brothers. "I can't..." Buck started. "I just can't..." He lifted his hands in frustration and tried again. "I just can't believe it."

Chris didn't speak as he laid his hand on Buck's arm. Buck's gaze drifted to Vin and Josiah who stood guard over the Hollowells.

"He can't be dead," Buck whispered.

"I know," Chris said, not knowing what else to say.

"I should have gone back," Buck tried. "Shouldn't have fallen asleep."

"Can't go thinking that," Chris reminded.

"We shouldn't 'a left him to it alone!" Buck shouted, pulling his arm out from Chris' grasp. "I should have gone after him!" He walked a few steps away and turned back. Buck shook his head hopelessly. He moved his hands restlessly at his sides, not knowing what to do with them.

Chris averted his gaze and said, "I need you and Buck to take these boys to town. Vin and me are goin' to find 'im."

"I'm comin' with you," Buck declared.

"Buck, I need you to go back to town with Josiah and the prisoners. Me and Vin will look for Ezra."

Buck opened his mouth to put up an argument, but Chris silenced him with a look.

"Who's Ezra?" Dale asked, confused, as Josiah secured him with handcuffs.

Josiah met the boy's gaze and said quietly, "A good friend."

"Your brothers," Chris barked, snatching Gus' collar and hauling him off his knees. "Where are they?"

"They sent us to get the stuff and then meet up with 'em back at Falling Cross," the prisoner responded quickly.

Chris sighed. "Buck, you and Josiah bring in these boys. Then, get Nathan and head to Falling Cross."

"JD might still need 'im," Buck responded numbly.

"JD should be doin' a lot better by now. Have Mary watch over him. We gotta get these bastards." He continued in a low voice, "They're gonna pay for killing one of our own."

"Maybe you should go with 'em, Chris. They'll need a hand," Vin suggested softly, looking downward. "I'll find Ezra. Won't take two of us."

Chris paused, and then responded, "You shouldn't go alone. Buck and the others will handle the Hollowells." 

"Yer gonna need every gun you can get to take down my brothers," Dale crowed happily.

"Shut up, Dale!" Gus cried. "What are you sayin'? Jeez, are you an idiot? Yer gonna get 'em all killed."

Dale frowned at the realization. "Oh, yeah," he said.

"Let's get goin'," Chris said wearily.

Josiah nodded and moved to collect Gus, as Buck manhandled Dale to his feet.

 

PART 21:

Ezra rested, or at least tried to. His hands were crammed into the stone crack, as were the toes of his boots. He leaned into the wall of the cliff. He was almost there. Just a few more feet and he would be out of here, off of this cliff-face, back to the relative safety of level ground. He looked at the remaining distance, and knew that it may as well be miles. He was utterly exhausted.

He gazed carefully downward, noting how far he had been able to climb. Quite the accomplishment, he thought. Reaching the bush had taken more time than he cared to remember. His fingers were bloody and bruised from the abuse. 

He had managed to rip JD's jacket nearly to shreds during his attempt to climb through the center of the scrubby bush that grew from the crack in the wall. At least he had been able to retrieve the hat, which was now jammed under his gun belt. 

He sighed and held on, trying to rest. The wind blowing across him was refreshing, but would grow cold again if he paused too long. He wished he had his canteen, wished the canteen was full -- he had only an inch or so left in the bottom before he took his plunge -- should have remembered to bring it along. Left on his saddle, it was long gone. He was so tired and thirsty, hungry and sore, and he was still several formidable feet from safety. 

He flexed one hand, preparing to move it again, to continue up the crack in the cliff wall. Then he heard it. 

He sucked in his breath and listened... yes, he was certain this time. He could hear a horse moving above. Good Lord, he swore to himself and pulled close to the wall. The Hollowells had returned! He looked over his shoulder again, wondering if he should release his hold. He was a sitting duck here. His arms trembled as he thought about letting go. He had worked so hard to get this far...how could he return to the beginning? 

Don't move, he thought, as he heard the horse draw closer. If you let go, they'd hear you landing below... they'd shoot you just as easily down there as here. Hold on, maybe they'll go on. Maybe they won't see you here, like a fly on a wall, like a bug ready to be squashed. 

He pressed his head close to the stone surface, looking upward, waiting for whatever would follow. He could easily hear the movement, just above him now. The clatter of hooves on stone, as someone searched above. 

Please, he thought, just move on now. Nothing to see here. The sound was so close now, directly above him, and a spray of gravel rained down on him. Ezra ducked his head. Damn, they got me. 

Ezra clung to the cliff-face, willing himself into invisibility. Above him, a horse snorted. Ezra frowned --is it? he thought, before looking upward. He smiled when he saw the familiar head peering at him. 

"Chaucer, either you truly are a fool, or you are a true friend," Ezra said to his horse that stared at him with a perplexed look on his long face. Chaucer didn't see his owner from this angle very often. The horse whickered in recognition and shifted back and forth. 

Ezra released one hand from the crack and moved it up to a new handhold. "Any horse with half an ounce of sense would be home by now. You have a more than acceptable stall awaiting you. Hay, oats, fresh water..." he grunted, struggling upward another few inches. "And yet you remained here. Don't tell me that you couldn't find your way. I've taught you better than that. You must look out for yourself for I am not always able to do so." 

His arms shook, trying to hold is weight. Every time he released his grasp to find another, he could almost feel himself peel away from the rock-face. He wasn't going to last much longer. 

Chaucer whinnied happily, watching his owner slowly make his way up the last few feet. The horse lowered his head and tried to nibble on the fingers that just came into reach. 

"HEY!" Ezra shouted. The horse jerked back his head for a moment, only to return to his task.   
The horse's reins fell forward and were quickly grabbed by Standish. Chaucer looked expectantly at his man, as he felt the pressure applied strangely to his bridle. 

"Chaucer, dear friend, would you do me the personal favor of backing up?" Ezra asked smoothly. The horse pivoted its ears and Ezra repeated, "Back up."

The horse shifted his weight and started to back away from the cliff edge, dragging its owner along with him. Ezra helped as best he could, trying not to pull the bit from the horse's mouth. He walked up the cliff-face as his horse pulled him. 

It wasn't until Standish was fully on the level surface that he halted the horse, released the reins and lay on his stomach on the rocky ground. 

"Thank you, my noble friend," Ezra muttered into his arms. "Emphatically, my dear Chaucer, I thank you." It felt so good to not be hanging from his fingertips. To just be able to lay here and breath deeply. Good Lord, he was tired. 

When was the last time he'd slept? He had been up all night, and the night before. The previous night was interrupted far too early by the unnecessary job in South Bridge. He closed his eyes. Maybe just a minute or two of sleep. 

"Hey!" Ezra shouted as he felt his hair being bitten at. He swatted vaguely at the horse's head. "In a moment." The horse tugged at his collar. He groaned and pushed himself up into a sitting position. Chaucer looked at him with interest. 

Ezra winced when he put pressure on one hand. "Look at my hands," he said, presenting them to the horse for inspection. 

Chaucer snuffled at his palms for treats but found none. 

Ezra withdrew his hands and briefly inspected JD's ruined jacket, his torn shirt and tattered vest, realizing that the rents in the material matched scratches in his skin. He was rather bruised on one side from when he had landed on the ledge. His appearance was, in a word, wretched. 

He sighed miserably when he saw the condition of his boots. "Do you know how difficult it will be to replace them?" he asked the horse, who cocked its head at him. "First, I will have to send a special order to Amarillo. Undoubtedly it'll take weeks for the order itself to be completed, and then there's the shipping time. If the local delivery service holds true to its recent form, it will be a months before I can receive proper replacements." Ezra shook his head. "And then of course, I would have no idea if the shipped product would actually meet my strict requirements."

He rubbed his thumb against the scarred toe of one boot and muttered, "A travesty, a sheer travesty." 

Chaucer nickered again and tossed his head. 

Ezra gave up trying to repair the damage done and pulled the bowler out of his gun belt. He slapped it against his knee as he smiled at the horse. "Haven't lost it yet," he said. 

 

PART 22: 

Chris and Vin silently followed Banyon River up toward Banyon Cliff. Their gaze stayed mainly on the river and its banks as they searched. From time to time they would stop when they sighted a dark shape under the surface of the water and one of them would dismount to investigate. They had silently reached an agreement that whomever spotted the shape would be the one who inspected it. Vin's quick eyes subjected him to the majority of the searches. 

Here, the Banyon was shallow and wide. It would narrow at the cliff, becoming faster and more dangerous. They would wade out into the water and feel under the surface. So far they had only found sunken logs, dark rocks, hollow spaces and tricks of shadow. 

They inspected shapes on the river's bank, crossing the shallow and quick moving river from time to time to check something on the opposite bank. So far, their search brought up nothing. 

Chris could see the cliff in the distance, and as they slowly approached it, he could feel a great weight come to bear on him. The cliff was so high. He grimaced as he imagined the scene -- Ezra shot and falling off the cliff, to the Banyon River below, falling so far. Dale's description haunted him. Chris knew that Ezra didn't have a chance. 

Damn you, Ezra, Chris thought as he silently rode beside Vin. Damn you for taking a fool chance. Damn you for not bein' careful enough. Damn you for gettin' trapped up against that cliff. Damn you for getting yourself killed. Damn you for making us come out here lookin' for ya. Damn the cliff, damn the river, and damn all the damn rocks in it. Damn it all. 

He watched as Vin slowed his horse, gazing out into the water. The tracker looked up to Chris before dismounting and wordlessly entering the fast moving water again. 

Vin waded toward a darkness under the water. The gunslinger held his jaw tight, waiting, hoping that Vin had found Ezra this time. Please, let this all be over with, Chris thought. I can't stand this searching anymore. Let it be him this time. 

If it's Ezra... we can stop this search. Bundle him up and bring him home. We won't have go keep goin' out into the cold water, checking, looking for a body.

A dark shape beneath the water. Ezra -- just a dark shape under the water. Damn Vin and me for not finding him yet. Damn myself for wastin' so much damn time chasin' after a damn loose horse. Chris grumbled, remembering again that he should have brought Toby with them instead of sending JD's horse back with Buck. They could have used the spare mount to bring Ezra home. Damn it all to hell. 

The Hollowells -- Dale and Gus and Matt and Fred and whoever else they might be -- damn them most of all.

Chris watched as Vin reached into the water, feeling around beside a large stone. 

Chris looked away, up the river toward the cliff. He silently prayed that JD was okay, that Nathan was right, and the young sheriff would be just fine. At least that, let the kid be all right. 

He returned his gaze to Vin as the tracker stood. He saw the relief in Vin's face and knew that they hadn't found the body yet. So they would keep searching, as long as it took. 

Vin hurried back through the water and back to his horse. The two men said nothing as Vin mounted and they continued upriver, toward Banyon Cliff. 

The men road side-by-side, keeping an eye on the river. A few minutes later, Vin stopped, wordlessly dismounted and reentered the river. 

Chris sighed as he watched his friend slog hopeless to another dark shape in the water. 

Damn, Chris thought. 

 

PART 23: 

Nathan sat beside the young sheriff, and carefully wiped his face. 

"Come back...come back," JD muttered. "Don't..." 

"Quiet now," Nathan shushed. "It's gonna be all right. Just hang in there." JD's fever had increased during the day, but it had leveled out a few hours back, and appeared to be lessening now. The healer checked the wound again to ensure that infection hadn't set in. He nodded to himself, pleased that all looked well. 

JD moaned and tried to struggle away from him. "No," he murmured. 

"Easy, JD," Nathan said. "It's gonna be fine." He carefully sat the young man up and pressed a glass of water to his mouth. "Drink this," he commanded. 

JD did as he was told, opening his eyes to fix on the glass as Nathan held it for him. The healer gently settled him back in the bed. 

"Buck?' JD looked around briefly, gazing toward the chair where Wilmington had been sleeping. "Buck?" 

"He'll be back soon," Jackson promised. "Get some sleep." 

JD's gaze traveled to Nathan's face. "Where?" 

"They're still lookin'," Jackson told him. 

JD's eyes turned sad. "Haven't found 'im yet?" 

"They'll be back any minute now," Jackson said confidently. "I'm sure." 

JD turned his head toward the door and blinked slowly. "Why ain't they back yet?" 

Jackson wanted to say something reassuring but all he could say was, "I don't know." He laid his hand on JD's forehead and ordered, "Rest now." 

JD's eyelids fluttered closed and he sighed as he fell back to a troubled sleep.

Nathan watched the young man's face relax and then glanced at the clock. Where? That was a good question. Where were Chris, Buck and the others? What was taking so much time? He sighed, hoping that no one was hurt, that they didn't need his healing skills. Where were they? 

He was ready, in any case. He had made the proper preparations. He'd set up a cot in case the clinic gained another resident. The longer they took to return, the worse his suspicions became. Something must have gone wrong. 

He turned to the door, thinking that Ezra would saunter in any moment, asking where everyone had gone off to, checking on JD but pretending not to care one way or the other. Nathan smiled at the thought, almost able to see the enigmatic con man, grinning as he strode through the door. 

Ezra always tries so hard to make everyone believe he doesn't give a damn, Nathan thought. Yet he probably frets worse than any of the others when someone was hurt. He works awful hard at keepin' people at arms-length. What's he so afraid of? 

JD muttered. If he could just keep the fever down, Dunne would be all right. He wrung out the cloth in the basin before returning it to JD's warm brow. 

Jackson startled at the sound of the door opening and looked up expectantly as Buck and Josiah entered. He didn't move, watching their expressions. 

Oh no, Nathan thought, seeing the hopelessness in Buck's face, seeing the depth of the sorrow etched into Josiah's. No!

Buck paused, and then moved to the bed. "How is he?" he asked. 

"Fever's still in 'im," Jackson replied. "Hasn't gone up none lately." Nathan's gaze switched from Buck to Josiah. "Didja find Ezra?"

Josiah did not meet Jackson's glance, looking instead at the pale young man in the bed. "Chris and Vin are looking for him now," he replied softly.

Nathan waited a beat and then asked, "Should I catch up with 'em?"

Neither man replied immediately. Buck sat beside his young friend, laying his hand on top of JD's and watching the kid toss his head.

Josiah finally spoke. "Went off Banyon Cliff."

Nathan sucked in his breath, letting it out with a strangled, "No!" He was silent for a moment and then said, "You think maybe... maybe...."

"The boys who were there said they saw..." Josiah trailed off, unable to speak the next words. 

Buck looked up from JD when the preacher fell silent. "The bastards said they saw him busted up, floatin' off down the river."

"Chris and Vin are looking for 'im now," Josiah repeated solemnly. "They'll bring 'im home." 

Nathan looked to the cot he had prepared. "Oh God, no."

"Nathan, will JD be all right if we left him in Mary's care?" Josiah asked. 

The healer replied, "I think he's on the downside of the fever." 

"We got two of the men who did this. They're in the jail now with Cal Stoker keepin' an eye on them," Josiah continued, watching Buck who silently held onto JD's hand. "There's three more out there. They're out at Falling Cross. We could use you." 

Nathan didn't want to leave JD, but Buck and Josiah needed help. They had to bring in the men who hurt JD, who killed Ezra. Damn it, Nathan startled at the thought, not ready to accept that fact. Ezra couldn't be dead. 

Nathan glanced again at the doorway, and wasn't able to picture Ezra appearing there anymore, grinning and asking about the others. 

Jackson nodded. "I'll get Mary to watch 'im," he said. "He'll be alright for a bit." Nathan stood stiffly, and made a move to walk around the cot to head to the door. Instead, he plowed through it, kicking the small bed aside in frustration and then went to find Mary Travis.

 

PART 24: 

Vin scanned the steep sides of Banyon Cliff while Chris continued to search rocky banks of the river. They had made it all the way to the cliff without a sign of their lost friend. 

The tracker noted the narrow ledges that dotted the sides of the cliff. He looked hopefully, wishing to see Ezra perched on one of those tiny ledges, giving them his usual two-fingered salute, calling down to them to complain about how long it took them to reach him. He noted a place where something had recently fallen through the bushes, confirming the boys' story. He winced at the thought.

He scanned the ledges for Ezra, for a body and saw nothing. 

The little outcrops were so narrow, so widely spaced. Not much of a chance, he thought. He sighed, remembering the day that he and Ezra had ridden along the top of that cliff. How he had told Ezra about the dangers of the location.

Vin rubbed the bridge of his nose and thought, why didn't cha listen to me? How could you go and get yourself trapped atop that cliff. I told you it was dangerous there! Why didn't cha just listen? Actually thought you understood what I was goin' for. What happened? Why didn't cha just listen to me for once?

Chris had made his way to the top of a large pile of rock to get a better view. The area beneath the cliff was littered with stone that had fallen from the heights. Chris kept searching. 

Vin tore himself away from the cliff and returned to the river. The tracker paused for a moment and then trod out into the water again. Chris waited as Tanner moved through the quick-moving waters, toward yet another shape in the water. 

Tanner stopped halfway to his goal, gazing down in the water. He looked to Chris, and seemed to be about to say something, but instead returned his attention to the water at his feet. He crouched down slowly and retrieved what had caught his eye.   
Chris waited, unable to see the object that Vin carefully held in the palm of his hand. Neither man moved until Chris finally gave in and asked, "What is it?" The sound of his own voice startled him. He realized that neither of them had spoken for hours. 

Vin said nothing. Rather he held the object up so that Chris could easily see the small gun that usually hid up the gambler's sleeve. 

 

PART 25: 

Ezra kept Chaucer at an easy gait as he headed toward home. He took a long route to avoid the area where they had been attacked. He had seen the tracks of the Hollowells headed back in that direction, and realized that they would probably be returning for the supplies that they had abandoned in their quick pursuit. 

He glanced unhappily at his saddle, thinking of his own missing supplies. He had nothing. His canteen was empty now as were his remaining weapons. His clothing was in tatters, filthy and stained. It made his skin crawl to think about it. At least he had left the drafty cliff behind and wouldn't be so cold. 

JD's bowler remained jammed under his gun belt. If he were to keep up the charade, then the faux sheriff should not make another appearance. 

He wished he had more water at least, to clean up his torn hands, to tend to his scrapes and scratches. He had shared the last of the canteen's contents with his horse, but he was thirsty still and hungry as well. So tired. 

His arms ached from the climb, and he laid them over the pommel of his saddle as he rode. The reins hung loose in his tired hands and he encouraged Chaucer in the right direction with his knees. 

He blinked against his weariness. He could sleep in the saddle and let Chaucer take him home, but he had to be on the lookout for the Hollowells. They were still out there somewhere. No, there was no time to rest, yet.

Besides, the last time he had tried napping in the saddle when traveling alone, he had awakened --hours later -- a very short distance from where he had succumbed to sleep. Chaucer, he knew, was no fool and would take advantage of any situation that presented itself. If the horse saw a chance to get some shut-eye, he would take it. 

Ezra yawned and straightened, then shook his head, trying to keep sleep from overcoming him. His route was going to take several hours, but once he was finished he could get some sleep, after checking in on JD, make sure the young man was okay. Check on Buck too. Ensure that they both returned safely.

Yes, he would just continue for a bit longer on this route, and turn toward Four Corners once he reached the crossroads known as Falling Cross. 

 

PART 26:

Josiah, Buck and Nathan headed out of town, toward Falling Cross, toward the three brothers. Buck and Josiah traded out their mounts for fresh horses, and all three men were well armed and ready to capture Fred, Matt and Earl, the last of the Hollowells. 

Buck didn't look at either of his traveling companions as they rushed to their goal. Fine knowin' ya, Buck thought, remembering his last words to Ezra. Fine knowin' ya. Should have been something better, something with more -- feeling.

The last time he had laid eyes on Ezra -- disguised as JD -- he had been furious with the gambler. Buck kept his eyes forward as they traveled into the late hours of the day. 

The preacher sighed and adjusted his hat against the low evening sun. Losing Ezra hurt him worse than he dared think. It was like losing a son. God, it dug a hole in his heart. He had to push that away. If he were to dwell on that loss now, he'd crumple off this horse and lay there on the baked earth. No, he couldn't think about that just yet. He fixed his mind on the capture of the Hollowell brothers. They'd bring those boys to justice for killing a friend. Once that was done, and those boys were locked up – then he could fall apart.

Nathan grimly kept pace with Buck and Josiah, hoping that this was over soon, that they easily found the Hollowells brothers, that that they would be able to subdue them without bloodshed -- without much bloodshed at least. There had been too much sorrow for one day.

Jackson never was able to really understand that southerner. Ezra was such a twist of contradictions. Nathan couldn't tell where the truth lay with that man. It seemed every time he had Ezra figured out, the chameleon would shift color and frustrate him completely. But perhaps some of those switches shouldn't have surprised him so much. 

Sorry, Nathan thought. I never got around to knowin' you better. 

Nathan glanced at his two companions, hoping that this whole incident was resolved soon. That no one else had to be hurt. Falling Cross was in open country. The people waiting there would be able to see them coming. How in the world would they get close enough to capture them? Nathan brushed his hand across is bag of medical supplies, hoping for the best. 

 

PART 27: 

"Nathan?" JD stirred and looked across the room. "Nate?"

"It's okay, JD," he heard Mary's soft voice. "He'll be back soon."

JD frowned. Everyone was leaving him. Why? Why did everyone have to leave? "Buck and the others come back?" he asked.

"Yes," Mary said as she poured a cup of tea for the sheriff. "They returned about an hour ago and have gone back after those men who attacked you."

"All of 'em?"

"Well, they found two of the men and have gone to get the other three," Mary said confidently. "I'm sure everything will work out."

"No," JD said, frustrated, "I meant, did everyone come back. Did they find Ezra?"

Mary smiled tightly. "Not yet." She helped JD to sit up.

JD groaned at the movement and accepted the bitter tea before he spoke again. "Do they know where Ezra is?"

Mary nodded. "Yes, they do."

JD smiled. "Good. I was so worried." He gauged Mary's expression and knew that something was wrong. His smile faltered. "Mary?"

"Just get some rest now. You need to heal."

"Mary?"

"Quiet now, JD." Mary continued to smile as she picked up the cloth from the basin and laid it against JD's too warm brow. "Just rest."

"Tell me," JD demanded with as much vigor as he could muster. "What's happening?"

Again Mary just smiled, a tired and shallow smile. "I really don't know exactly," she replied. She had heard the news that Buck and Josiah had brought, had seen their faces. She had promised Nathan that she'd tell JD nothing.

The healer had been so solemn, so determined to make her understand that he would to be the one who told JD. He had half-heartedly tried to wake the sheriff before he left with the others, but JD had fallen into a deep sleep and Nathan gratefully gave up on the task. "I'll tell him when I get back," he had said out loud. 

Mary didn't envy Jackson, and was relieved that she wouldn't be the one to tell JD that Ezra had been killed in his attempt to draw attention away from the young man. As JD's eyes searched her face, she could see the realization come to him. 

"No," JD sighed miserably. "Oh God, no..." and sleep once again took hold of him.

 

PART 28:

"We should go," Vin said finally.

Chris continued to walk along the rocky bank of the Banyon. "We'll find him," he declared. 

"It'll be dark by the time we get home," Vin continued. 

"I'm not givin' up," Chris stated. "Not gonna stop 'til we find him." 

Vin sighed and moved to his horse. "We got no food for us and no feed for the horses. You got no campin' supplies. We should go home. See if the others need help." He mounted and turned Peso while Chris continued his movements along the bank. "Chris, he's not here." 

"He has to be somewhere, damn it!" Chris growled. 

Vin continued to speak softly. "We'll go home and come back tomorrow. Search further down the river. Look someplace else." Vin couldn't look anymore. The depressing task of searching the river for the body of their friend had taken all his strength. At that moment, he wanted to be a million miles from the Banyon. He couldn't stand to remain another minute in the shadow of Banyon Cliff.

"Tomorrow," Vin said. "We'll bring Buck and Josiah and Nate." He moved slowly away, his head down. He couldn't stand it anymore. He couldn't even bare to think of returning tomorrow. 

Chris stopped and sat down on a stone by the river, resting his arms on his knees.   
"Ah hell, Ezra," Chris muttered at the water. He said nothing for a minute, and finally muttered, "I used to like to fish the Banyon." He looked up to see that Vin had stopped and was looking back at him expectantly. Chris stood stiffly and went to his horse. 

"Tomorrow," Vin promised. "Ez, I swear, we'll come back and getcha tomorrow." 

 

PART 29: 

Ezra kept his head steady as he listened to the buzz that seemed to fill it. He was so very tired. He rubbed the back of his hand across his eyes and kept Chaucer pointed toward the tumbled shack ahead of them. He had forgotten about the little ramshackle shelter, and now it looked like a haven to him.

He could hide himself and the horse there and they could get some rest. He wouldn't have to worry about the Hollowells for a while. He could just lie down and sleep. The thought of rest spurred him on. He clucked to the horse and Chaucer increased his speed. 

They were nearly to Falling Cross, within sight of it. Ezra could see the familiar landmark -- a large stone -- a cruciform, tilted -- just beyond the shack. His approach startled a pair of crows that rested on the roof of the cabin. They took to the air, their wings making a dry sound as they flapped. 

Damn crows, Ezra thought, trying to keep his mind off of Josiah's vision of the birds. Josiah and his crows. He sighed, thinking of the preacher. He had a great deal of respect for the man, even though he had little for organized religion. A greater man would be hard to find, but if Josiah had a failing, it would be his misplaced paternal instincts. 

Ezra shook his head, thinking that Sanchez had no idea the risk he took in playing the role of a father figure. "Disappointment without end," Ezra muttered to himself as he continued onward. His own father never found anything worthwhile in him, so why did Josiah insist on trying to take up that part? The man would only find disillusion. 

He deserved better, Ezra decided. He deserves much more. 

He had just reached the small structure when he heard voices. He jerked to a stop, taking a minute to realize that the voices weren't coming from inside the shack, but from beyond it. 

Ezra dismounted quietly and peered around the cabin. There were three men with three horses waiting in the distance at Falling Cross. 

Ezra pressed against Chaucer, making sure that the shack hid the horse. Blue roans, three blue roans. It was the Hollowells again. He watched them carefully from the lea of the building. 

Apparently, he hadn't been seen; the shack had blocked their view of him, just as it had blocked his view of them.

Now what? The Hollowells were at Falling Cross. Did that mean they were heading onward to Four Corners? Why? Did they unravel the deception? If they had, then all was lost. 

Only three men. Were they waiting for the other two? Why were they at Falling Cross? Where were they going?

Ezra leaned his weary head against the side of the old cabin. No, they wouldn't be going to Four Corners, not with the murder of the sheriff hanging over their heads. Ezra squinted across the distance -- or rather, attempted murder. They should be brought in to justice. 

Ezra touched his empty weapons. He could bluff, but he was so damnably tired. He realized that he wasn't going to be the one to bring them in. He would have to alert the others, get to town and tell Chris, Vin and everyone, get them out here to capture these three miscreants and bring them in for the pain they had caused to JD. 

Now, Ezra realized, I need a means of getting past them. 

Think... 

Ezra tugged at the torn, yet still recognizable jacket. He looked to his distinctive chestnut-colored horse. Slipping past would require -- assistance. 

Ezra flipped the hasp on the door to the cabin and quietly pulled it open. The shack was mostly empty. Whatever furniture once graced the small abode had long ago been carried off, but a broken-down wood stove remained. 

Ezra pulled Chaucer in after himself. The horse snuffled at the unfamiliar scents. Ezra looked around in the dim room. A tattered rug was shoved into one corner, along with a busted-out basket. He scanned the area and his gaze lit upon a roll of filthy burlap sacks. 

He patted the horse on his nose and then squatted down beside the stove. The pipe was missing and someone had obviously worked out some aggression on the cast iron device, knocking it a-kilter. Ezra pulled open the stove's door and seemed satisfied. 

"Chaucer, dear friend, have you ever heard the expression 'a horse of a different color'?" 

 

Part 30: 

"Hey, Fred, Matt." Earl Hollowell stood. "Someone's comin'." 

Dusk was falling and the three had been waiting for hours for Gus and Dale, getting antsy. The five brothers had all started to journey toward the place after they'd 'killed the sheriff', but Fred decided mid-way that it was pointless for all of them to go, and sent the youngest ones on the task. Fred was tired of traveling, and Dale and Gus were always available to send on the annoying errands. 

It shouldn't have taken the two this long.

Fred, Earl and Matt squinted at the approaching horseman. The rider seemed to have come out of nowhere, but Fred realized that the shack in the distance had most likely blocked his approach. 

"Hey!" Fred shouted, and the rider drew to a stop. "Who the hell are you?" Fred frowned. It was a Mexican, in a dirty serape and the ugliest sombrero that Fred had ever seen. The hat looked little better than a flattened basket. His trousers looked as if they may have been made from burlap bags. 

"¿No me recordáis?" > the traveler asked, leaning forward on his blackish-gray horse. 

"Huh?" Earl asked, and looked to his brothers. "You guys speak Mexican?" he asked Matt and Fred. 

"Not a lick," Matt responded. 

"Why should I?" Fred asked, somewhat annoyed. 

"No puedo creer que me hayais olvidado tan rápidamente." > The man continued. 

"You speak any English?" Fred demanded. "We just speak English here in America." 

The Mexican said, "Lo siento mucho, pero no creo que sea apropiado hablar vuestro idioma en este momento." >

"Huh?" Earl said again, straining to understand. 

"Dang, it." Fred muttered, "Stupid Mexican can't speak proper." 

The traveler continued in the same even voice, "Os aseguro que puedo hablar mejor que vosotros en unas idiomas diferentes" >

"He sure talks a lot even if you can't figure a word he says," Fred grumbled. 

"Have you seen our brothers?" Matt asked hopefully, trying to get a better view of the rider in the growing gloom. The Mexican kept his head tilted downward, his face remaining hidden by the battered brim of the hat. "Brothers?" Matt gestured to Fred and Earl. "... you know... bro-thers?" 

He raised his voice and spoke with excruciating slowness. "Daaa--le and Aug-gusss-tusss Hol-lo-wellllll? Brooo-thers?" 

"¿Vuestros hermanos?" > The rider continued to keep head tilted. His blackish horse moved as if it were uncomfortable in its skin. "Cómo podría olvidarlos? Hubo un momento en el que ellos estuvieron disparándome" >

Fred waved off the rider in disgust. "Stupid foreigner. He don't know nuthin'." 

The rider continued on his path, around the three men and onto the road to Cedar Ridge. "¿Extranjero?" > The man's voice remained cheerful as he left them. "Creo que olvidáis que esta tierra fue parte de México mucho antes que fuera tomada por los Estados Unidos." >

"Yeah, Mexico!" Matt shouted. "Go on back to Mexico!"

"Con mucho gusto. Me tomaría unas vacaciones ,">

"Does he ever shut up?" Fred asked. 

The Mexican lifted his hand in farewell and said "Adiós, idiotas." > and continued on his way. 

"Hey," Earl said, furrowing his brow. "Did he just call us 'idiots'?" 

"I dunno," Matt said with a frown. "I think that might mean somethin' like 'sir' in Mexican." 

The three brothers watched the rider as he moved into the growing darkness. 

They were still watching when their world came crashing down around them.

 

PART 31: 

A lucky break! The man in the odd sombrero had distracted the Hollowell boys. Buck, Josiah and Nathan were able to approach the three and find cover before the Hollowells dismissed the rider. 

The lawmen waited until the man in the serape had ridden off and the Hollowells had relaxed. 

The gunfight lasted longer than it should have. The brothers ended up pinned behind a group of rocks with only the ammunition that they had on their persons. The Hollowells, if nothing else, knew how to ration their ammo. 

Finally, after almost an hour of tedious gunplay, the brothers gave in. They threw down their weapons and allowed themselves to be taken into custody. 

Buck stormed up to them. "Which one of you is Matt?" he barked at the brothers. 

They exchanged glances and Earl pointed to one of his brothers. 

Buck grabbed Matt and swung him around. "You're the son of a bitch who shot 'im?" Buck demanded. 

Matt looked confused. "I.. ah..." 

Josiah and Nathan kept an eye on Buck as they restrained the other two brothers. 

"The 'sheriff' -- You're the bastard who shot him? Who sent him offa Banyon Cliff? You the one who killed him?" 

"It weren't his fault!" Earl defended. "We were just gittin' him back for what he done!" 

"He deserved what he got!" Fred howled. "The little shit deserved it." Fred stopped speaking and went white when he saw the look on Josiah's face, as the big man grabbed hold of him. 

Matt's eyes took on a look of pure terror, his gaze locked on Buck. "It was all of us. We all wanted 'im dead. I wasn't the one that shot him first... that was Fred here." 

Buck locked his angry glare on Fred and growled, "I'll deal with you later." 

"I was just lucky ta git him at the cliff is all," Matt prattled on. "It was pure luck that I was the one. I was just lucky is all." 

Buck dragged the man close, until they were nose to nose. "Luck's run out," he growled.

 

PART 32: 

Ezra followed the trail toward Cedar Ridge for some distance, before he changed directions and head across to the trail to Four Corners. He was just so damn tired. He forced himself to stay awake. He had to get to Four Corners before the Hollowells left Falling Cross. Ezra had to stay awake long enough to tell the others, to get them to go after the three Hollowell boys, to bring them in for the harm they had caused to JD. 

He thought he heard gunfire. His head was swimming and he couldn't be sure of anything at that moment. Just my imagination, he decided. So damnably tired. Hearing things now. I'll be seeing angels next. 

He was still so far from home. He brought Chaucer to a quicker gait to try to hurry their progress, but the tired horse soon slowed, and Ezra had no ability to encourage him any longer. At least they were still moving forward. 

"Don't fall asleep, Ezra," he said to himself. "You must alert the others. You must return home tonight. You've been gone too long." 

The lights of the town never looked better to the weary man as he approached his home. Chaucer made his way down the familiar street, not needing any direction from his rider to find the livery.   
Nobody paid much attention to the man in the dirty serape and shapeless hat. Ezra dismounted at the livery, catching his balance on the saddle. He found his legs could hardly support him anymore. 

It was dim in the building, but Ezra knew his way around. Somehow, even the effort of lighting a lantern was too much at the moment. He led the horse to his stall and unsaddled him, talking softly as he did, apologizing for the last few days. 

He glanced at the neighboring stall and smiled to see Buck's horse quietly stabled, and JD's across the aisle from the gray. "Thank God," Ezra said with a sigh. They had made it back.   
The boys who watched after the livery were nowhere in sight, so Ezra realized he'd have to look after his own horse. He ensured that there was water and feed in the stall and Chaucer gratefully dropped his head to the water bucket once Ezra removed the bridle. He picked up the brush from the shelf and started a valiant effort to groom the animal. The movements were more automatic than anything -- he could hardly see straight, let alone think. 

He frowned to see how much soot still remained in Chaucer's pelt after his first attempt to brush the horse. Even in the low light, it was obvious that he was making no headway. Chaucer was going to need a bath. Ezra tried to lift the brush to try again, but his arms had lost all their strength and the buzzing in his head was increasing. He leaned his head against the horse for a moment and started to drift. He had to jerk himself back to consciousness. 

"I'm dreadfully sorry, Chaucer," Ezra said with a sigh, replacing the brush to its customary place. "I will have to tend to you later." He shuffled out of the stall and took a moment to pat the horse's muzzle. "Promise..." 

He made his way out of the livery and across to the jail. He had to find out about JD and Buck. Thinking of the young man, he pulled the bowler out of his gun belt held it by its brim.

He pushed open the door to the jail and found a quiet scene. Cal Stoker, a local rancher, was asleep at the desk, tipped back against the wall. Two prisoners were sleeping in one cell. Where was everyone? Where could they have possibly gone? Didn't they realize the Hollowells were still about? 

Ezra stood for a moment, listening to the buzz, feeling the floor swaying beneath his feet. He absently set the hat down on top of a cabinet and peered into the cell. He smiled numbly, realizing that the sleeping men -- boys really -- were the missing Hollowells. They had the same dark hair, the same stupid faces. 

Somehow, someone had captured two of the Hollowell brothers. He needed to tell Chris about the other three at Falling Cross. He needed to find out about JD.

He turned a little too abruptly and crashed into a wall. He steadied himself, rubbing his nose dolefully, not sure if he had hurt himself or not. So tired. 

Ezra shuffled away from the cells and noticed Stoker had left a glass of water on the desk -- water. 

He had to grip the side of the table in order to keep his balance as he downed the glass and set it back in front of the sleeping rancher. "Thank you, Mr. Stoker," Ezra said quietly, touching the brim of the shoddy basket/hat. "You're a saint to provide such nectar." He then left the jailhouse, intent on reaching the clinic. 

Halfway there, he saw someone glare at him and vaguely heard a voice say, "Would ya take a look at that? Looks like he's wearin' a rug." 

"Filthy drunk," Mrs. Underwood, a washerwoman, uttered and steered clear as Ezra staggered past her. 

"Someone should keep that sorta element outta town," Simon Richards, from the saddle shop, grumbled. "Ain't that the reason we got them Seven hired?" 

Ezra noticed that the citizens of Four Corners were giving him a wide berth, scuttling away from him in disgust. He stopped and looked down at his rather shameful disguise. He was covered in dirt and soot, wearing rags. He shouldn't be caught dead looking like this. How did he let this happen? He couldn't allow JD or the others to see him dressed so disgracefully. At least the hat hid his face well enough so the locals hadn't recognized him yet. No one would ever suspect it was he in these foul garments. He changed his direction and headed to the saloon. 

The noise and the heat of the saloon hit him like a wave as he moved through it. The voices were undistinguishable. The faces were nothing more than a wash. 

He considered looking for the others at their usual table, but decided he'd prefer that they didn't see him at all. If he were just able to slip past, get to his room and change into more presentable apparel, then he could face them. 

He carefully made his way up the stairs to his room. It took him a moment to find his key before he could unlock the door. He had to lean against the doorframe and squint at the lock to ensure the key found its mark. The door opened with a familiar and welcome creak and he stood for a moment on the threshold. 

He smiled. That feather bed never looked better to him. 

No time to waste. Just get cleaned up a bit, and go see about JD. Tell the others about the Hollowells. Just take a moment to change into something presentable. 

He tottered into the room, swinging the door shut behind him, and sat down on the edge of his bed with a sigh. 

Just a moment, he thought.

 

PART 33: 

Chris and Vin slowly entered the town and headed to the livery. People on the boardwalk stopped as the two riders moved past them, and watched them sadly. Rumors had started circulating throughout the town in regard to the missing Standish. Anyone who passed the two riders could easily see that the stories had proven to be valid.

Chris and Vin had just dismounted when Josiah, Nathan and Buck approached from the other direction with their prisoners. Chris was grateful that at least the rest of the Hollowells were in custody, that his remaining men were alive and well. The three boys looked a little roughed up, but in one piece at least. 

Nathan and Josiah said nothing once they saw Chris and Vin's faces, but Buck stepped forward and asked quietly, "Didja find him?" 

Chris answered with a shake of his head. He didn't want to talk about it. He felt as if he had failed Ezra miserably. Larabee sighed, wishing that he could have at least brought home Ezra's body, not left it to the river. 

Buck frowned. "We have to go back. We have to find him."

"Not tonight, Buck," Chris said. "Let's get these boys put away. We'll get some rest and go out again tomorrow." 

Buck couldn't miss the sorrowful sound of Chris' voice. He turned to his charge and roughly pulled Matt Hollowell from his saddle. He would have slammed him up against the side of the livery if Chris hadn't interceded and pulled Matt out of his grip. 

"Take care of the horses, Buck," Chris said, dragging Matt along with him. He looked to Tanner. "You, too, Vin," knowing that the care of the animals would help soothe the tracker's troubled soul. 

Buck and Vin said nothing, watching their friends drag the Hollowell brothers to their awaiting cell. The two men stood silently side-by-side, even after Chris and the others disappeared into the jail. 

"We looked and looked," Vin said quietly. "Couldn't find him." 

Buck turned to Vin and saw the lost look on his face. He threw a brotherly arm over the tracker's shoulders and said, "Let's get the horses settled. Then you and I are gonna get drunk." 

Buck lit a lantern and they moved the small herd of horses into the livery. Buck's eyes narrowed when he saw the strange horse with the streaky-black coat in the stall that Ezra rented for Chaucer. "Goddamn son of a bitch," he muttered under his breath. "He's not even cold yet and they've let the stall to someone else."

 

PART 34: 

Chris and the others entered the jail, banging open the door, sending the tipped and startled Cal Stoker slamming to the floor. 

"Sorry, Mr. Larabee," the rancher said as he stood. "I dinnent know you were coming back so soon." 

"Stoker?" Chris called, shoving the first of the three new Hollowells into the empty cell. 

"I, ah...sorry," Stoker said as he righted the chair. "I guess I drifted off." 

Josiah and Nathan pushed the other two brothers after the other and the door was closed behind them. 

"Nothin' to worry about, really," Stoker said. "If anything happened, I would've woke right up. Nobody could've gotten in here without me knowin'. I'm a light sleeper." The rancher nodded to the cell, where the youngest Hollowells were standing and gazing at their siblings. "No harm done. They didn't go no place." 

"Go home, Stoker," Chris said tiredly. He had no patience left. 

Nathan took Stoker by the arm and started to lead him from the jail before Chris could think of anything to do to the tired guard. Stoker paused for only a moment, to stare at his empty and soot-smudged glass, before leaving without a fuss. 

" 'Ey, Fred. 'Ey, Earl," Gus greeted quietly. 

"Hiya, Matt," Dale put in. 

Fred, the eldest of the group, turned to Gus and Dale. "Was it you?" he growled. 

"What do ya mean?" Gus asked innocently. 

"You gave us up, dinnent you!" Earl screamed. 

"Weren't me!" Dale said, giving the youngest brother a shove. "It were Gus!" 

"Dale started it!" Gus shouted. "I weren't gonna say nuttin', but Dale started fartin' off his mouth." 

Dale threw his younger brother an angry look and then turned to Fred. "None if this would 'ave happened if you dinnent make me and Gus go back for the stuff alone. It's all your fault!" 

Chris watched the five brothers yelled at each other through the bars. They looked as if they wanted to tear each other to pieces. Chris rubbed his hand over his eyes as he turned his back on them. 

Nathan and Josiah moved around the room slowly, absently. 

Finally Nathan said, "I can't believe he's gone." 

Josiah nodded, his eyes lowered and misty. "I just can't quite imagine it yet," the preacher said. "Doesn't seem possible." 

"It ain't right," Chris responded and leaned against the desk. "It just ain't right." 

Nathan stood for a moment more, wishing he could say something to fix this, but he couldn't think of the words. Finally, with a shake of his head he made his way to the door. "Goin' to check on JD," he said. At least, he thought, I can do something there. Nathan dreaded the question that he knew JD would ask. How could he tell JD that Ezra was dead? How could he convince JD not to blame himself? 

Josiah watched Jackson leave and he leaned against the desk beside Chris. The two men said nothing for a long time. The words of the Hollowell boys, as they tossed accusations back and forth between the cells, meant nothing to them. They were both lost in their own thoughts. 

"He was a good man," Josia said after a long time, his voice sounding almost hollow. 

"Doesn't deserve to be left at the bottom of a river," Chris stated. 

"We'll get him tomorrow," Josiah assured. "He'll be buried in town. He earned it." He deserves a home of some sort, Sanchez thought. 

"Doesn't deserve what happened," Chris said. 

"He made a damn fine lawman, all in all." The thought made Josiah smile. Yes, he was damn fine. If only someone could have explained that to him. He ran the back of his hand over his eyes, not wanting to believe he was gone. 

Chris smiled. "Who would'a thought it."

"Gonna miss him," Josiah said sadly. 

"Yeah," Chris agreed after a minute. 

"Just don't know how to go about it yet," Josiah said with a sigh. "It doesn't seem possible yet. Hasn't quite set in." In a way, he wanted to keep it that way. He didn't want to thoroughly believe. Maybe, if he could hold on to this minute for a while longer, he'd feel better. Maybe, he never wanted to find a body so that the door would always be left open – because one never knew when it came to Ezra. 

"I'll bring him back tomorrow," Chris promised. "I'll bring him back. Not gonna leave him out there." 

They had ignored the brothers for so long that it surprised Chris to find one of them talking to him. 

"Hey, you! You in the black!" Dale said, signaling Chris through the bars. "I want it." 

Chris fixed him with a baleful stare. "What could you possibly want?" 

"The hat," the young man stated, pointing to the cabinet. "It's mine, fair and square. I called it." 

Josiah and Chris turned to see JD's bowler hat sitting in its usual place on the top of the cabinet. It looked so familiar and perfect in its position, that neither of them had noticed it when the came in 

"Josiah," Chris said softly, "Did you bring that in?"

"No, Chris," Josiah said, squinted at the sight, wondering if it were a mirage. "I could tell you that none of us found it. You think it was Vin?"

Chris stood and grabbed the dusty hat from its perch. "No, not Vin." Had Stoker brought in JD's bowler? How could Stoker have found it?

The gunslinger turned the hat in his hands, wondering if it were possible. Couldn't be...   
He took three quick steps to the door. Couldn't be... 

 

PART 35: 

Buck and Vin dutifully cared for the horses. Throughout the process, Buck threw angry glances at the sleeping streaky-black horse in the end stall. 

"I can't believe they'd do it," Buck muttered. "You'd think that they'd wait a day or two before renting Ezra's space to someone else." 

"Maybe it's a mistake," Vin suggested. "Someone got in late and thought the stall was free." He moved his hand over one of the horses, letting the action calm him. The boys who watched the place didn't seem to be around in any case. Who would have rented the spot? 

Buck snorted in disgust. "Ezra has that stall set up like an apartment. How the hell could someone not notice it was being used?" He stopped his movements and looked back to the end stall. Damn, he thought. There were so many little things that he would miss. 

Vin looked in the same direction. He had been avoiding it up until that moment. He didn't want to admit to Buck how hard it was to see some strange horse there. It was too soon. When his gaze fell upon the animal, he stopped. The brush fell from his hand as he moved away from the roan, toward the stall. 

"Ya gonna move 'im outta there?" Buck tossed his brush aside. "Lemmie give ya a hand." 

Vin smiled as he came closer to the sleeping horse. It was only once he stood in front of the stall that he could clearly see the creature's strange markings, how its body was grayish-black, but streaked as if the horse had sweated away some of the color, as if someone had tried to brush away the black. Its back, where a saddle might sit, was a familiar chestnut color. 

Vin glanced at the shelf alongside the horse and noted the fine boar-bristle brush with the mother-of-pearl handle all matted with soot. A familiar saddle was exactly where it should be.   
The tracker reached out to touch the horse's head and the animal suddenly jerked awake. It glared at the tracker before dropping its head to return to sleep. 

"Chaucer," Vin whispered. 

Buck stood, opened mouthed, looking at the sooty horse, just as Chris and Josiah burst into the livery. 

Chris held up JD's bowler hat and started to speak, but Vin cut him off. 

"Chaucer!" he said urgently, pointing to the horse. The animal opened its eyes and reproduced the same glare. "Chris, it's Chaucer!"

A grin spread across Larabee's face. He gestured with the hat and said, "He's here!" Chris spun around and headed out the door. 

"Saloon!" Josiah decided, running toward the gambler's favorite haunt. He dared to hope as he sprinted out of the livery and across the street.

The four men burst through the batwing doors, quickly searching for the familiar face. The room fell silent as the patrons looked anxiously toward the lawmen. These men were after something and the customers of the saloon shrunk away from them in fear. 

A quick scan of the saloon did not reveal Ezra.

"Inez?" Buck shouted to the woman behind the bar. "Has Ezra been through?"

Inez looked confused. She had heard the rumors going about town, and had feared the worst.   
"Señor Standish?" she said questioningly. "But Señor Larabee, Buck..." she trailed off and moved her hands across the bar. 

"Have ya seen 'im?" Chris demanded. "He been here?"

"No," she responded, looking from one man to the other, not understanding what was going on. Of course she had not been keeping such a keen eye on the saloon that night, too distracted by the news. A heard of bison may have traipsed through without her realization. 

"His room!" Vin said, elbowing his way around the others and storming up the stairs to the room rented by the con artist. 

The door was flung open and the four men stopped in their tracks. There, wrapped up in what appeared to be a rug, with a squashed basket near his head, and tipped over on the bed, was Ezra. 

Chris laughed and then muttered, "I'm gonna kill him." 

Josiah just grinned at the sight, and gave Chris a hearty slap on the back as Vin and Buck barreled into the room. Thank you, Dear Lord, Sanchez prayed. Good God, thank you. 

"Hey, Ez," Buck said softly, kneeling down beside the bed. "Hey, Ez, you okay, hoss?" He grasped Ezra by the shoulder and shook him gently. 

Ezra muttered incomprehensibly. 

"Sleeping," Vin declared. "Fast asleep."

"What the hell is he wearing?" Chris asked stepping forward. 

"Disguise," Vin said and grinned up at Chris. "I told ya. He cheated." Vin shook his head in wonder.

"Does he look familiar to you, Buck?" Josiah asked. 

Buck gave Josiah a confused look and then he turned his attention back to the shapeless hat on the bed. He laughed. "I seem to remember a certain very lucky distraction that let us get all nice and close to the Hollowell brothers."

"Should we wake him?" Josiah asked, anxious to know everything. "Find out what he's been up to?"

Chris replied quickly, "Let him sleep. He looks exhausted." Ezra's face was pale, and dark circles marred his complexion. "I may have to shoot him tomorrow though." Larabee sighed and added, "Let's get him comfortable at least." 

"Come on, Ez," Buck said tossing the makeshift hat onto the floor. "Let's getcha out of this." He pulled the sleeping man upright, drawing more garbled speech. "You'd be mad if you found out we let you wear this stuff all night." 

Ezra half-heartedly tried to bat away Buck's hands. "Stop it, Chaucer," Ezra mumbled. 

Vin took a moment to figure out how to remove the serape-rug. His attempts to unwind it were met with further slurred comments and an increased struggle. 

"No, lemmie go," Ezra murmured. "Can't have it." He tried to clasp the rug back to himself. 

Vin smiled. "Now if he knew what it was he was protectin', I think Ezra would be mighty embarrassed." 

Ezra continued to fight feebly against Vin's attempts. "No, no, no. Can't stop now. Must tell Chris 'bout those...Hollowells...Falling Cross...Must detain them."

"Don't worry 'bout it," Chris said, "We already got those boys."

Ezra turned his head at the sound of Chris' voice and smiled, but he did not open his eyes and his voice was reduced to impenetrable rambling again. 

"What happened to his face?" Buck asked, noting that half of Ezra's face was covered with soot, and that his nose was a little swollen. "Why do ya think he blackened only half his face?" 

Vin considered this for a moment and then said, "Doubt if he meant it. Leaned against Chaucer, I reckon." He grabbed hold of one of Ezra's feet and sighed. "He's not gonna be too happy about this," Vin said as he worked off the scarred boots. "He prizes these fancy things of his." Tanner made a startled grab as a wad of cash dislodged from its hiding place just inside the boot. 

Buck took the folded bills from the tracker and counted them quickly. "Son of a bitch! He turned that $5 into almost $100!" 

"Lucky bastard," Vin commented, as he removed the second boot, then stood to set the pair by the door. "We were out there all day lookin' for him in that river and here he is with his boot stuffed fulla cash."

Buck peeled off a bill before setting the wad on Ezra's bed stand. "I think we deserve a drink or two." 

"Now, what do you think caused this?" Josiah asked, looking at the condition of Ezra's hands as he rotated them gently. They were filthy, caked with dirt, soot and blood. Damn, son, what did you do to yourself? He grabbed the ewer and basin from Ezra's washstand. 

"Hard to say," Chris responded, sitting down beside the rest and helping Buck to easing off JD's tattered jacket. "Got pretty scraped up, too." 

"Mr. Larabee," Ezra said dreamily when he heard Chris' voice again, "I'll be but a moment." He head lolled forward and Chris caught it, saving Ezra a strained neck. "Just a moment and I'll be down." 

"I'll let it go for now," Chris said, grinning still. He helped to hold Ezra upright, resting his tired head against his shoulder, as Josiah did his best to clean up their conman.

 

PART 36: 

Buck entered the clinic just as Nathan was able to rouse JD. The healer had to keep his promise. He would tell JD that Ezra was dead. Wilmington was glad to see that JD was no longer tossing under the effects of the fever and that his color had improved. 

"Nathan?" JD looked around, bleary-eyed and confused. He smiled, glad to see the healer had returned. "Doc?" he said again. "Ezra's okay, ain't he? They did find 'im?" His voice gave the impression that there was only one response that he would accept. 

His hopeful expression fell as he searched Nathan's face. "Please, Nathan," he said softly, "they had to have found him." 

Nathan hadn't looked up when Buck entered. The healer swallowed, wishing that he didn't have to impart this information. "I'm sorry, JD..." the healer started. 

"Didn't need to find him," Buck interjected. "That slippery snake found his own way home." 

Nathan looked up sharply, expectantly. "Buck?" he asked. 

"I'll keep an eye on the kid here," Buck said with a wink. "Chris wants you to run over to Ez's." 

"What? Why? How?" Jackson asked, unable to form any further words for his questions. 

Buck smiled, broadly. He was just so dang tickled. JD was lookin' much better and Ezra -- dang it -- was alive. "Don't quite got an answer for those questions, Nate. All I can say is Ezra's sleepin' like a baby in his room." 

"But he...you said..." Nathan started. He stopped and restated, "What the hell happened to him then?" 

Buck shrugged. "Hard to say where he's been exactly. He's probably got quite a tale to tell. Long and short of it is, he's here... scratched and bruised, but in one piece at least." 

Nathan smiled as he leapt to his feet, grabbing his bag before heading out the door. He turned in the doorway and looked back at Buck and JD. His grin only increased as he met their gazes. He laughed as he turned and shut the door after himself. 

"How ya doin', Kid?" Buck asked, finding a seat beside JD. 

JD sighed. He could feel a weight lifted from him. A pain, that was greater than that caused by the bullet, suddenly fled. 

"A lot better," JD replied.

 

PART 37: 

Nathan nodded to the stairs. "Look who's up," he said. 

Five heads turned to face Ezra who made his way down the stairway at the back of the saloon. He looked considerably better than he had the night before. Freshly scrubbed, clean-shaven and decidedly awake. He was dressed in just trousers and a shirt, but looking as refined as ever. 

Vin had to smile when he noticed that Ezra was wearing the boots that Tanner had resurrected. It had taken a full bottle of leather oil and half a dozen rags to work the scars out of the fine leather. 

Ezra noticed the men, and made his way to their table. 

"Gentlemen," Ezra said as his careful gaze moved from one face to another. "I take it from your relieved expressions that our Mr. Dunne is doing well?" 

Chris noted that Ezra still looked tired, despite sleeping for almost twelve hours. "JD's doin' fine. Got a few days of bed-rest left." 

Ezra nodded curtly and held his hands self-consciously behind him. "Mr. Larabee, I'm afraid I may be delivering news that is decidedly stale. I encountered three of the Hollowell brothers at Falling Cross...last night?" he added the last few words with uncertainty, hoping that he hadn't managed to sleep for longer than one 24-hour day. He continued judiciously, "I regret that I wasn't able to delivery this information earlier, as was my intention." 

"Don't worry, we already found your friends," Buck said. 

"Yes, Ezra," Josiah said with a nod. "We couldn't have captured them without your help." 

Ezra looked confused and then suspicious before he said, "Ah, excellent." 

Vin turned to Ezra and said, "So, what exactly were you and that horse doin' in those get-ups anyway?" 

"Yes," Josiah included, "I'd like to hear about your adventures." He pulled a chair out from the table and gestured to it. 

"Yes, sit down," Nathan demanded. "I'll order you something to eat and you can tell us all about it." 

Ezra smiled and said, "Perhaps later. I have errands to attend to."

"Yeah?" Chris started, "And what sort of errands would these be." 

"Firstly, I need to retrieve my possessions from Mr. Dunne. I believe I may need to place an order for replacements of his hat and coat." He puzzled. "I seem to have misplaced them at some point." 

"We found 'em," Vin said. "JD's hat is right where you left it. We found somethin' else to do with the jacket." 

Ezra furrowed his brow at this comment before he continued. "Then of course, I need to wash my horse. I left him in a deplorable state." 

Vin said, "Ezra, you'd better change into something a little less presentable. That horse is covered head to hoof in soot and he's none too happy. You don't want to dirty those fine duds now do you?" 

Ezra glanced down at his shirt. "But I am wearing my horse washing clothing." 

The five men regarded him for a moment. "Ezra," Josiah said, "What you wear to wash a horse is better than what most folk wear to church." 

Ezra sighed theatrically. "The fact that your congregation prefers homespun and buckskin has little to do with my wardrobe." He turned sharply and said, "Good day, gentlemen," before heading out the door. 

The five of them waited until Ezra moved through the bat-wing doors and down the boardwalk before they followed him to the clinic. 

By the time they made it to the room, Ezra was sitting beside JD with his red jacket and hat in hand, looking concerned about the young man's condition. 

"I sure am glad you're okay," JD said. 

"The feeling is reciprocated, Mr. Dunne," Ezra replied. 

"I was real worried is all," JD continued. "I didn't know what was goin' on. Nobody was tellin' me anything. I thought somethin' bad had happened to you." 

"No need for that," Ezra reassured him. "I did have a plan in mind. It was the only viable solution that would assure the safety of all of us." 

Ezra stopped talking as the other members of the Seven filed into the room. He looked up at them. His expectant expression turned to a frown when he realized that their attention was on himself and not the sheriff. 

"Is there something I can do for you, gentlemen?" Ezra asked. 

All six men pointed to the window, even JD, who grinned as he held onto his wounded shoulder with his other hand. Ezra stood slowly. He carefully laid his jacket over the back of his chair and settled his hat on his head before he moved to the window. 

He frowned as he gazed out the window. "What exactly are you expectin' me to see?" he asked as he looked out to the backsides of half a dozen buildings. 

"Mrs. Potter's vegetable patch," Josiah said, "Has a new addition." 

Ezra adjusted his gaze and then groaned. "Oh please, no." 

Buck slapped the gambler on the back as Ezra slouched against the window frame. "Thought since you put together such a fine outfit, we couldn't let it go to waste." 

"Looks right fine," Vin said with a laugh, looking over Ezra's shoulder. 

Chris remained near the door, leaning against the wall. "Personally, I think it looks better out there than it did on him." 

"I understand the children are calling it Señor Ezra," Josiah said, smiling. 

Ezra moaned and shut his eyes. That damn disguise was on the scarecrow in Mrs. Potter's garden. Even with his eyes shut, Ezra could still picture that filthy rug fluttering in the breeze and the damnable basket tacked onto that manikin's head, the shredded jacket, the tattered shirt, the ripped vest, the detestable burlap bags ballooning with air, his ruined trousers trailing in the dirt beneath it. 

"Does a pretty good job a keepin' away the crows," JD reported. "I ain't heard one of 'em since they put it up. I mean, we don't get a lot here, but you never know." 

"Anything that keeps away the crows," Josiah said, "Is a mighty fine thing in my book." 

Ezra sighed and straightened as he turned away from the window and tried to make his way around Buck and Vin. He caught Nathan's gaze and asked, "Do you have anything to add to my embarrassment?" 

Nathan opened his mouth and then smiled and said, "Nope." 

Ezra shook his head and maneuvered past the others. "Gentlemen, if you forgive me, I have a horse to attend to." He picked up his jacket, and smoothed it in one easy movement before draping it over his arm. Then he moved quickly to the door, to find it blocked by Larabee. 

"We're glad to have you back," Chris said, not moving. 

Ezra tilted his head and tried to think of something to say. 

"Pull a fool stunt like that again and I'll kill you myself. Ya had us all pretty scared there for a bit," Chris continued. "Thought we lost you. Didn't like it." 

Ezra sighed, so that was it. Time to be chastised for my actions. Ezra met Chris' glance and said, "I'm sorry that I wasn't able to communicate the plan before I put it in motion. I regret any difficulty it caused you." 

Chris shook his head in frustration. "It wasn't the 'difficulty', Ezra..." 

"I assure you, Mr. Larabee, after the discomfort I have suffered, it shall not happen again." 

"Ezra..." Chris sighed. "We thought you were dead." 

Ezra shook his head. "Why, Mr. Larabee, do you doubt my abilities to survive the threat of the Hollowell brothers? Certainly they were no match to my superior intellect." 

Larabee extended his hand. "I'm glad to count you as a friend. Glad you're still here." 

Ezra looked back at Chris in amazement. He shifted his gaze to the others in the room, not knowing what to expect, what was about to be sprung on him. He saw no accusation in any of them, no anticipation of approaching doom, no one was laughing at him. 

He slowly drew his attention back to Larabee, seeing the hand still offered and no sign of any subterfuge. Ezra clasped the gunslinger's hand and shook it firmly and seriously. 

JD's voice came from behind him. "Hey, Ez, thanks. You saved my life. I owe ya one."   
"Yeah, goes the same for me. Thanks, pard," Buck said with a grin. 

Ezra nodded to the two men. "And then perhaps you could show your gratitude by removing that contemptible creation from the Potter's vegetable patch." 

"No deal," Buck and JD replied together. 

Ezra sighed and turned to the door and Larabee. "May I go now? Chaucer's mood is not improving." 

Chris stepped aside and let the con man leave. He stood in the doorway and watched Ezra hurry down the stairs toward the livery. He smiled. It was good to have him back.

 

PART 38: 

Chris watched as Ezra exited the livery. He had to chuckle at the expression of disgust and dismay as he hopelessly examined his wet and filthy clothing. Ezra still carefully carried his jacket, trying to keep it from touching his dirty shirt. Somehow, Larabee noted, Ezra had managed to keep his newly shined boots dry. 

"Gave ya a hard time?" Chris asked. He could tell that the only thing Ezra wanted to do was to get out of the street and out of the ruined clothing. 

Ezra sighed and said, "Chaucer did not appreciate the disguise I chose for him and decided to inform me of this fact." 

Chris nodded. He couldn't say for sure who was more stubborn, the man or the horse. He had witnessed part of the 'horse washing'. Both parties had cursed and grumbled, knocked over buckets, threw tantrums and made a rather appreciable ruckus in the corral behind the livery. The final outcome was that the horse was clean, but the owner was not. 

"Come on," Chris motioned to Ezra, who was trying to make his way back to his room. "I need you to do two things." 

"Please, Mr. Larabee," Ezra sighed, pulling at his sodden clothing. "I need a change of clothing. Isn't there someone else who could perform these tasks for you?" 

"You'll dry quick enough," Chris said, closing the distance between them and grabbing Ezra by the shoulder. "Come on." 

Ezra considered digging in his heels, shrugging out of Larabee's grip and continuing back toward his room, but he realized that such actions would only cause further commotion, and he really didn't want to do anything to draw attention to his current state. He allowed Larabee to shove him toward the jail. 

Inside the building, Buck was behind the desk, his feet propped up and leaned back against the wall. "Hey there, Ezra," Wilmington greeted cheerfully when the two entered. 

The five Hollowell brothers were huddled around the joining wall to the cells, playing cards. Chris released his grip on Ezra and stepped up to pound on the bars. 

The brothers looked at him in disgust, but Larabee smiled. "Boys," he said, "I'd like you to say hello to someone you should already know." 

The five looked over at the sodden man and all shrugged. "I don't know 'im," Matt said and returned to his cards. 

"Can't say I do neither," Fred commented and nodded to his brothers as if his response was enough for all of them. 

Earl squinted. "Looks a little familiar." And Gus rubbed his chin in contemplation. 

"He our lawyer?" Dale asked. "Ma sent out for a good one. This one looks kinda... well... wet. He's s'pose ta get us off for we dinnent do nuthin' worse than settle a score. Ain't our fault that Matt here had to kill that sheriff." 

"Dale!" Matt hissed and Gus shoved him. 

"I was just sayin' that you had every right to do it," Dale explained. "It was our God-given right to even the score." 

"Now, boys...boys," Chris said. "Hang on there a second. I think this will help clarify a few things." 

Buck tossed something to Chris. Ezra realized what it was and smiled. "Gentlemen," the gambler said smoothly, "If I indeed should affix that moniker to the lot of you -- there is perhaps something you should know." 

He laid his jacket over the back of a chair and then took off his hat and handed it to Chris. 

Larabee handed him the familiar bowler. Standish ran his hands along the brim for a second and smiled at the Hollowells. "If you may, please try to remember a night or two ago." He settled the hat on his head. 

The Hollowells looked at him with puzzled expressions. "No?" Ezra asked. "Ah, yes, I think I know what's wrong. You saw me mainly from this angle." And he turned his back to the prisoners and then faced them again. "Familiar?" 

"No!" Fred growled. "No, it was the sheriff that we chased! I know it! I know what I shot!"

Buck stood and slowly approached the bars. "Oh," he said darkly, "You most certainly did shoot JD, and I'll see that you rot in prison for that. But he's fine and well. At this very moment he's sittin' up in his bed havin' a little soup and maybe if he's good -- a cookie." 

"He's the gambler!" Earl said with a snap of his fingers. "There was that gambler with 'em when we first set upon 'em. I remember that fancy jacket there." He pointed to the coat and then looked quickly to his brothers. "It was 'im!" 

"We were chasin' him all night?" Dale asked sullenly. 

"I didn't kill the sheriff?" Matt sounded horribly hurt. 

Fred shook his head violently. "I know you killed 'im, Matt. I done see you shoot 'im at Banyon." 

"That's right," Matt said, jabbing a finger toward Ezra. "I done shot you dead." 

"Mr. Hollowell," Ezra stated calmly, shoving the bowler back into place as it tried to slide down his forehead. "You did indeed take a shot in my direction, but you hardly injured me." 

"But you went off that cliff," Dale said incredulously. "I seen it! I seen you die!" 

Ezra smiled, revealing his gold tooth. "I jumped, and you jumped to conclusions." 

Matt looked morose. "We dinnent get the sheriff. We dinnent even get the gambler." 

"Damn conman!" Fred grumbled. "Ma always warned us against the likes of you!" 

The others stood about with various wounded and astonished expressions. 

"Come on, Ezra," Chris said, clapping a hand on the gambler's shoulder. "I got another task for you." 

"Catch up to ya in a bit," Buck said as he returned to his chair. "Gotta wait 'til Cal comes back to watch these boys. He thinks he's gonna make up for fallin' asleep and lettin' Santa Ana in without noticing 'im." 

Ezra smiled again, remembering, and turned before he left the jail. "Adiós, idiotas," he said as he tossed JD's bowler toward the corner of the room, where it landed gracefully in its usual place on the filing cabinet. When the door shut behind him, he heard the wail of the brothers. He headed down the stairs, directed by Chris toward the saloon. 

"Are you going to let me change my clothes now?" Ezra asked as they made their way along the boardwalk. 

"Nope," Chris replied as he jammed Ezra's own hat back onto his head. 

When they entered the saloon, Ezra quickly spotted Josiah, Nathan and Vin at their usual table. 

"Ezra!" Josiah boomed. "I see that you have finished your errands." 

Ezra nodded. "That I have." Josiah pulled out a chair and Ezra gratefully took advantage of it. He was still so tired. Really, all he wanted to do was to go upstairs and continue with his interrupted sleep. It was only the need to give Chris the information regarding the Hollowells, to check up on JD and to wash his horse that pried him from the bed a few hours earlier. 

"Gentlemen?" Ezra asked as Chris sat down beside him. "What do you want?" 

"You promised to tell us about your adventure once you finished with those errands of yours," Nathan said as he signaled the bartender. "And that you'd eat something. When was the last time you ate anyway?" 

It took a moment for Ezra to realize that two full days had passed since any food had passed his lips. Strange, for he really didn't feel any pangs anymore. It wasn't until the aromatic bowl of stew and the plate of bread was set before him that he suddenly realized how very hungry he was. 

"Sorry, Mr. Standish," Joe said, "But all's I got right now is stew. S'okay with you?" 

Ezra was afraid that he would not be able to talk because of all the saliva suddenly in his mouth. "Quite fine, Mr. Rutledge, quite fine." He picked up a spoon and started working on the rich stew, stopping only long enough to sop up some gravy with the bread. A mug of beer appeared at his elbow and that was quickly emptied and replaced. He thought he heard Nathan say, "Take it easy," at some point, but he couldn't be sure. 

It wasn't until the bowl was empty and wiped clean with the last bit of bread that he sat back and realized that the others were still at the table and that Buck had joined them. 

"Man alive, I ain't never seen him eat like that before," Buck said with a chuckle. 

"I'm amazed he took time to chew," Vin added. 

Ezra self-consciously pushed the bowl away from himself and picked up his mug to take another satisfying drink. 

Joe, the bartender, appeared beside him and asked with a touch of awe, "You want another bowl, Mr. Standish?" 

Ezra considered it for a moment as he gazed at the empty dish, but instead he smiled and said, "No thank you, Mr. Rutledge. I do believe one shall be enough. I commend you on your ambrosial ragout." 

Joe looked confused so Josiah translated, "I think he said he liked the stew." 

"Now," Chris declared, "You're gonna sit still and shut up for a minute and listen to what I have to say." 

Ezra paused, not liking the sound of this. "Perhaps if I had some pie?" 

"Pie later...listen now," Chris said emphatically. 

Ezra sighed in resignation and sat back in his chair. "Very well then," he mumbled. 

"All right," Chris started and then stopped. "I just wanted to let you know..." his voice trailed off as he looked at Ezra's calculating expression. He could tell that Ezra was trying to read him, trying to figure out exactly what was about to be said, waiting for the some incalculable hell to break loose. 

"Mr. Larabee, if this is all you have to say, perhaps you will allow me to leave." 

"Damn it, Ezra," Chris growled in frustration. "I just wanted to letcha know that we were all pretty torn up when we heard you were dead."

Ezra smiled and was about to speak when Josiah interrupted, "Hurt me to the core, Ezra."

Ezra turned to Sanchez, perplexed by this revelation. 

"Yeah, Ez," Vin said with a nod. "I didn't know what I was gonna do when I got back here. It just didn't seem the same, thinkin' you weren't gonna be around no more." Vin shrugged. "Made Four Corners seem a lot less inviting. More of a lonely place."

Buck leaned across the table and stated, "Josiah just barely kep' me from wringing Dale's neck after he told us what he thought happened to you. I got in a couple of punches into that Matt who was 'sposed to have shot you. Still, it didn't make me feel much better about it." 

"Ezra," Nathan said, "You scared us. That boy JD was just a bundle of remorse thinkin' he had somethin' to do with all of this. And I, well, I was pretty upset about the whole thing, too." 

Ezra looked from one man to the next, trying to figure out exactly what they wanted of him. They certainly looked sincere. It took a moment, but he finally decided that perhaps they were sincere. It had never crossed his mind that word of his demise might reach them, that the information would affect them. 

"I'm sorry," Ezra said softly. "I didn't mean to ... disturb you all so. I was only trying to slip away from my pursuers." 

"Could've done that at anytime in the night, pard," Vin said knowingly. "You kept those boys behind you for a purpose. You meant to do exactly what you did. You figured if they thought you were dead, they would leave JD alone."

"Risked your life to save JD," Buck said. "And me, too. Them boys were shootin' at ya the whole way and still ya went about thinkin' of the kid." 

Ezra tilted his head at Buck and said, "You paint a pretty picture, Mr. Wilmington, but not entirely accurate."

"So," Chris said, "Explain to us how it was, exactly."

"Yeah, where the hell did you go after you left me?" Buck demanded. "Were you aimin' for that cliff the whole time?"

"How'd you get those boys to follow you all night?" Nathan inquired.

"You been thinkin' about that cliff since the day we were up there?" Vin asked.

"And where in the world did you come up with that costume and why?" Josiah added.

Ezra folded his hands over his sated stomach and sighed. "Well," he started, trying to decide the best place to start. He leaned back in his chair to get comfortable for the long tale and closed his eyes for a moment to collect his thoughts.

He smiled to himself, thinking of what he had just learned from the others. They were actually worried about his well being. They had been saddened, thinking that he had died. Funny, he had never been in such a situation before. It had been a long time since anyone gave a damn whether he lived or died... well... his mother of course, but that was at times debatable. 

It made him feel all warm inside, a new feeling for the calculating conman. 

"Ezra?" Chris said, tapping him on the shoulder. 

"Ez, come on now," Vin shook Ezra's other shoulder and the gambler unceremoniously tipped forward and almost crashed headfirst onto the table. Chris and Vin were able to halt his progress and leaned him back in his chair. 

"Asleep again?" Josiah asked, and shook his head. That man could fall asleep at a drop of a hat. Of course, he realized, he could also stay awake for an awful long time if necessary.

"Come on, sleepy-head," Buck said as he stood. "Let's getcha to bed." He grabbed one of Ezra's still-damp arms and Vin grabbed the other. Between the two of them, they hoisted him to his feet, but his legs would not hold him.

Buck changed his grip and Vin took Ezra's feet. Together they managed to haul the sleeping man through the saloon. They reached the stairs with a minimum of disruption in the establishment. 

"Is he all right?" Josiah asked the healer anxiously. 

Nathan nodded, watching Vin and Buck make their way clumsily up the stairs, somehow managing to keep from ramming Ezra's head into the spindles. "Oh, he'll be fine. Hasn't caught up on his sleep yet."

Chris stood and started heading to the door. Josiah called after him. "Where are you goin', Chris?"

Chris stopped and turned to face them. "Thought I'd head over to the restaurant. The man wanted pie. I think I'll leave a piece for him by his bed in case he gets hungry in the night."

"He likes pecan best," Josiah said with a grin.

Chris touched the brim of his hat and headed out the door.

THE END


End file.
